


Stronger in the Broken Places

by ekwtsm



Category: The Streets of San Francisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:14:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 91,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekwtsm/pseuds/ekwtsm
Summary: A time of healing becomes a fight for survival.
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

The water lapping gently against the sides of the of the wooden rowboat was as mesmerizing as it was soothing, and it had become a calming balm to the man sitting so still in the stern, the fishing rod held loosely in his left hand, his focus faraway. 

The slight young woman in the bow, bundled up in a thick brown cardigan against the late January morning chill, her mittened hands around the handle of her own short rod, looked up from the red-and-white bobber dancing on the surface of the water to surreptitiously study her silent companion. Her worried eyes, as startlingly blue as her father’s, softened with overwhelming affection as she studied the familiar profile. And, not for the first time in the past few days, her eyes filled with tears.

She saw Mike’s eyes flick in her direction and, without moving, he growled softly, “You better keep an eye on that line; I think you just got a bite.”

Startled, Jeannie straightened abruptly, her gaze returning to the bobber as it was jerked under the water then bounced back into sight. She lifted the top end of the rod, tightening the line, staring at the bobber as it floated peacefully on the water for a few seconds before disappearing again. 

“I’ll get the net,” she heard her father whisper as he slowly put the handle of his rod on the floor of the boat and reached for the small green net on the floor of the boat between them. She already had her right hand on the reel handle, getting ready, waiting for another bite, knowing she would feel it through her fingers before she would see the bobber disappear once again.

Every sense on full alert, she could feel her father slowly moving closer to her, his eyes on the float, leaning slightly over the side of the boat with the net at the ready. Neither of them moved; the concentration was so intense Jeannie thought she could hear both their hearts beating, but she knew it was her own blood pounding in her ears.

Suddenly she felt it, the strong tug; her reaction, borne of the many hours spent sharing the companionable solitude of a rowboat in the middle of a lake with her father when she was growing up, was sure and swift. She jerked the top of the line up and away from the tug, in this instance to the left and away from her father, and knew without a doubt there was a fish on her hook. 

She started to reel it in quickly; whatever it was on the end of the line putting up a fight. The rod bent and she leaned back in the boat, bracing both feet against the side wall, pulling with all her might, dropping the line and reeling the slack in quickly, then pulling it up again. It was a deep lake, and her hook with its still wiggling worm had sunk deep into the cold water. It was a battle to bring whatever was putting up such a fight close enough to the surface for Mike to snag it with the net, and hopefully before it could rip itself free of the hook, becoming the proverbial ‘one that got away’.

Two pairs of blue eyes were glued to the spot where the thin black fishing line was cutting back and forth across the surface of the water as Jeannie struggled to bring her prize into view. Suddenly there was the flash of silver and red just below the top of the water.

“Trout,” Mike almost shouted, “and a big one.” He leaned forward a little more, the net in his right hand, his left gripping the edge of the boat so he wouldn’t fall in.

Her teeth gritted, holding her breath, Jeannie stopped reeling and lifted the top of the rod into the air again, turning it in her father’s direction. The wriggling fish, somehow knowing it was fighting for its life, broke the surface, spraying water in all directions. Mike threw himself forward as much as he dared, anticipating the trout’s next flail, and deftly slipped the net under the frantic fish. With a whoop of victory, he straightened up, raising the net and its protesting captive into the air, turning wide eyes and a broad grin on his relieved and beaming daughter, who was trying to catch her breath as she stared at the large fish still squirming frantically in the net as Mike lowered it to the floor of the boat.

“That’s a big one,” he chuckled admiringly as he held the fish down with one hand and slipped it carefully out of the net. Gripping it firmly in both hands, he held it out towards his daughter. “Do you want to do the honors?”

Her eyes wide, still not believing their luck that morning, she nodded and reached out to take it carefully but firmly, turning it so she could slip the hook out of the side of its mouth. Mike leaned to his right and reached for the thin chain that was looped around the seat and disappeared over the side of the boat. With both hands he pulled its heavy load out of the water and held it up; there were two large Kokanee salmon already on the chain.

“So I guess we’re really gonna be able to give Steve that fresh fish dinner we promised him, hunh?” Jeannie laughed as her father opened one of the clips on the chain and she slipped it through the trout’s mouth and gill then closed it. Grunting with the effort, Mike held up the chain with now three large freshwater fish hanging from it. “How big to you think it is?” she asked.

Her father stared at the trout then shrugged slightly. “I don’t now… fifteen? It’s definitely legal, that’s for sure.” He leaned over the side of the boat and let the chain slip slowly through his hands as he lowered their catch back into the water.

“You know what this means, right?” she asked as she picked up her rod from the floor of the boat then looked around for the small cardboard box with the worms, finding it under her father’s seat.

“No, what does it mean?” Mike asked with a chuckle as he picked up his own rod, the line still in the water. He began to reel it in to make sure the worm on his hook hadn’t been stolen while he was otherwise engaged.

“It means we’re gonna have to get some ice today,” Jeannie said as she rooted around in the box of worms, looking for a fat, appealing one, “if we’re gonna bring those fish home tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He pulled his left sleeve up slightly and looked at his watch, frowning. “It’s only just after 11. Do you want to stop already?”

Jeannie shook her head. “Look, it’s our last day, right? Why don’t we just keep at it till we finish up with all the worms?”

Mike pursed his lips. He nodded at the box still in his daughter’s hands. “How many have we got?”

She stared into the box, pushing the loose dirt around. “If we cut ‘em in half, enough for another couple of hours I think.” She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “I’m game…”

He grinned. “So am I. Pass me a worm,” he laughed, holding out his hand.

Giggling, she reached into the box and pulled out a long, fat pink worm. She kept stealing glances at him as he tore the worm in two and gave half back to her then started to slip it onto his hook. She sighed softly, contentedly; the week was ending so much better than it had begun.

The idea for this father-daughter adventure had begun over a month ago when she had received a unexpected call from Steve one mid-week evening. After quickly assuring her that her father was okay, he broke the news about Barney Lujack and the tragic culmination of Mike’s former partner’s obsession with evening the score for his son’s murder.

Jeannie, to whom Barney Lujack had been like a beloved uncle, was devastated, but even moreso for her father. She had assured Steve that she wouldn’t call her father, that she would wait until he made the first move; the young cop was worried that in calling Jeannie he had overstepped his bounds with his partner and best friend. It had taken her father more than a week to tell his daughter what had happened, and she still wasn’t aware of all the details.

Christmas had been slightly strained this year; though Mike had done his best to be his normal self, a melancholy had crept into his soul and there was a heartbreaking sadness in even his most jovial smile. Both Jeannie and Steve were worried about him, and both tried their hardest not to let him know.

A couple of days after the new year, Jeannie returned to Arizona but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to do something for her dad, something that she knew Steve, for all his good intentions and the bond he undeniably shared with the older man, couldn’t do. And then it came to her, something that they had shared many times when she was much younger, something they hadn’t done together in a long, long time. Something she knew would help to heal her father’s broken soul.

So she had gotten in touch with an old family friend, someone she knew still enjoyed the outdoor life, and picked his brain. Because it was January, heading up into northern California or southern Oregon, like they usually did, was out of the question. He had suggested an inland lake down near the Los Angeles area, a lake that wouldn’t be busy at this time of the year, if they were prepared for cold nights and crisp days.

Mike had balked at the idea at first, ferociously denying that he ‘needed to get away’. He knew what that meant. But she worked on him, in the way only a daughter knows how to reach a father, and he finally came around.

So, armed with a winterized tent and camping equipment, and a car full of warm clothes and a couple of coolers full of food in case their luck with a rod and reel didn’t pan out, they headed southeast. 

It had turned out to be a wonderful week. They caught nothing the first couple of days, thankful they had brought hotdogs and cans of baked beans with them, and had begun to get discouraged. But then their luck changed; Mike caught the first keeper, a 14-inch Kokanee salmon that they enjoyed that night, cooking it over an open fire in a pan of butter and fresh garlic.

Mike, whose melancholia hung across his shoulders like a shroud the first few days, began to come out of his shell as the week progressed, and Jeannie started to relax. And though he hadn’t said a word about Barney Lujack and what he was still dealing with, it was obvious he was starting to reconcile with it in a way that would, she hoped, bring him back around to the Mike Stone they all knew and loved. And now, having pulled the gorgeous rainbow trout out of the cold lake, she knew this week had done more to restore her father to his former self than anything else she could have done.

She heard Mike chuckle and she looked at him with a quizzical smile. He glanced over at her and grinned. “It’s a good thing we had to eat all that food in the cooler to make room for all these fish, don’t you think?”

She laughed. “I’m just glad we’re actually going to be bringing fresh fish back for Steve, although I have a feeling he’s going to accuse us of stopping at a fish store on the way home.”

“Then we’re just going to have to take a picture when we get back on land. You did bring the camera, right?”

Jeannie eyebrows shot towards her bangs. “You’re right, I forgot about that.” She grinned. “Hah, see him try to deny our fishing prowess when we bring him the undeniable proof!”

Mike stared at her with a stunned grin that radiated fatherly pride. “Spoken like a true detective’s daughter.”

Their warm laughter floated over the lake.


	2. Chapter 2

“I want to get an early start tomorrow so let’s try to get everything we don’t need tonight packed away when we get back, okay?” Mike glanced across the front seat.

Watching the thick stands of trees sliding by along the side of the narrow, deteriorating blacktop as they made their way towards the closest town, Jeannie nodded. “Yeah. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I was thinking we’ll grab breakfast somewhere on the road tomorrow…? Get a couple of hours in before we stop…? What do you think?”

The young woman glanced in her father’s direction and smiled. “Sounds good to me.” She focused on the passing trees again, the soft smile lingering. The combination of the solitude of the lake, the almost zen-like effects of still fishing, and the unspoken necessity of her quiet company had worked its magic; the man sitting beside her in the front seat of the blue family sedan had come almost all the way back from the troubled soul that had helped her pack the car a week ago. 

They were heading towards the small town of Eldred, the only dot of civilization for a fifty mile radius, or so they had been told. They had passed through the town on their way to the lake days ago and had no reason to pay it a visit during their stay. But now they needed ice, and Mike wanted to fill the tank so they wouldn’t have to worry about trying to find an open gas station first thing in the morning.

Jeannie reached for the knob on the radio and turned it on. Loud static filled the car and she lowered the volume quickly, shooting an apologetic glance in her father’s direction, then turned the tuning knob slowly, trying to find a station. After crawling unsuccessfully up and down the FM dial, she tried her luck with AM, picking up a screeching, and somewhat scary, evangelist chastening his flock and quickly turned the radio off, exchanging a startled look with her father, who chuckled slightly, then frowned alarmingly.

“What?” Jeannie asked, suddenly worried. 

Mike nodded with his chin through the windshield. “Can’t you hear it?”

She cocked her head, listening. A high-pitched squeak seemed to be coming from under the hood. “What is that?”

Mike grimaced again. “I think it might be the fan belt.” He pulled the sedan onto the shoulder and threw the gearshift into Park. He got out quickly and crossed to the front of the car, reaching under the hood to lift the latch. He raised the hood, braced it, then leaned over the engine. Growling under his breath, he lowered the hood and got back into the car. “It sounds like it’s gonna go,” he muttered as he shifted into Drive and eased off the shoulder back onto the crumbling pavement. He shot a comforting smile across the front seat. “Don’t worry, I can fix it myself. I’ve done it before. I just need a good wrench, and I’ve got one of those in the trunk, and a new fan belt, of course. Let’s just hope there’s a garage in town that carries the right size.”

“Is it okay to keep driving?” Jeannie sounded very worried.

Her father’s smile got a little wider. “Oh yeah, so long as it doesn’t snap completely before we get there. It shouldn’t. They usually start to squeak for awhile before they finally go. We should be okay.”

She nodded as she settled back on the seat, only moderately reassured. She turned her head to watch the trees slide by again, wondering how much further ahead Eldred actually was, and hoping they would make it.

Neither of them spoke, both of them listening to the squealing that had seemed to take on a life of its own, hoping it wouldn’t get any louder, hoping the belt wouldn’t shred itself, leaving them stranded on the side of a not-very-well-travelled road on a cold January night.

# # # # #

A heavy grunt accompanied the loud thud of Haseejian dropping himself heavily into the guest chair at the side of the desk. Steve, reading through a file and making notes on the yellow pad under his right hand, looked up languidly as the Armenian sergeant, cradling a steaming cup of coffee in both hands, grinned at him.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

Haseejian shook his head. “No,” he said lightly, continuing to grin. He took a sip of his coffee. 

Smiling patiently, Steve returned to his perusal of the file, trying to ignore the heavily breathing man staring at him. Eventually he looked up again. “What?”

“So, ah, so Mike’s gonna be back day after tomorrow?”

Nodding, the younger man tried to refocus on the file again. “That’s the plan. They’re driving home tomorrow.”

“Good.”

There was something in the tone of the single word that brought Steve’s head up again. The sergeant’s grin was gone and his eyes were hooded and sad.

“I was worried about him, you know…” Haseejian said softly. “I can’t imagine what that would be like… having to shoot an old partner…” He swallowed heavily, glancing down.

Steve stared at him understandingly and nodded slowly. “Yeah…. But I think Jeannie was onto something, you know, getting him away from here…. I think if anyone can get him back for us, it’s her…”

Haseejian nodded slowly then he smiled grimly. “I hope you’re right…” He got slowly to his feet. “I hope you’re right…”

“So do I,” Steve muttered under his breath when the sergeant was out of earshot.

# # # # #

Up ahead on the left they spotted a break in the trees and gas pumps came into view. As they got closer, they could see a fairly large red brick building with two pumps out front, nestled amongst the tall tress bordering its three sides. Mike vaguely recollected passing it on their journey to the lake; it was about two miles from Eldred, if he remembered correctly. 

There was a large parking area that seemed to wrap around the building, a few derelict cars and trucks parked up against the trees on the far side. ‘Charlie’s Gas & Go’ was painted in faded red letters on a large once-white sign above the glass front door.

Mike glanced across the front seat with a grin. “We made it,” he chuckled. “Let’s just hope Charlie has a fan belt that fits, or he knows where I can get one.” He turned the sedan into the lot and pulled up next to one of the pumps.

Smiling with relief, Jeannie nodded. She was staring at the front of the building; she raised her eyebrows, chuckled and pointed. “Hey, look.”

Mike followed her finger. A small sign in the corner of the front window said ‘ICE’. He looked at his daughter and laughed. “It’s our lucky day.” He opened the door and started to get out. She did the same. He took a couple of steps to the gas cap cover and opened it as the front door of Charlie’s opened and a young man in his thirties, wearing a grease-stained overall, started towards them. “Hi there. Can I help you?”

Mike spun. “Oh, ah, yeah, hi.” His hand froze on the gas cap as Jeannie cleared her throat to get his attention, staring at him pointedly then nodding towards the hand-painted sign taped to the front of the gas pump: FULL SERVE ONLY. 

The young man approached them, picking up the nozzle of the gas hose and flipping a lever as he stared at a now slightly befuddled Mike. 

“Oh, yeah, ah, fill her up, please.”

“Sure.” The station attendant took a step closer to the car forcing Mike to back out of the way. 

Swallowing a smile at her father’s discombobulation, Jeannie started towards the building. She paused, looking over her shoulder. “Do you have a restroom?”

The attendant, who had deftly removed the gas cap with one hand, raised his head slightly but didn’t turn. “Yep, around the side.” He nodded towards the side of the building with the abandoned vehicles. “The key’s on a nail just inside the front door.”

Mike stared at her, his head cocked, frowning. She smiled enigmatically. “I’ve been peeing in the bushes all week. I want some porcelain for a change,” she chuckled as she continued towards the store. Mike looked at the young man pumping the gas and snorted in embarrassment, then he cleared his throat. “Listen, ah, I need a fan belt. You got one that fits?”

The attendant didn’t look up. “There’s some on a nail behind the cash. Have a look.”

“Okay, thanks.”

As he got to the door, Jeannie re-emerged with the key, which was attached by a short piece of twine to an unwieldily chunk of wood shaped like a tree. She held it up with a wry smile. “I guess they don’t want someone running away with it,” she giggled as she headed towards the far side of the building.

Mike watched her go, shaking his head as he chuckled softly, then opened the door and stepped into the cramped, dimly lit general store. He stood at the doorway and looked around. The place had obviously seen better days, or maybe it was a going concern in the summertime when there were more tourists around. 

There were three short aisles of shelves filled with various and sundry food items, mostly snacks and drinks, cases of beer and bottles of wine, and necessities like milk, toilet paper and toothpaste.

Behind the cash were shelves of automotive supplies, and his eyes caught the welcome sight of several fan belts hanging from a nail. He hoped one of them was the appropriate length. He stepped behind the counter and picked the top one off the nail; it was right size. He exhaled happily, tossing it on the counter.

His eyes scanned the store again and he spotted the ice chest tucked into a back corner. He crossed to it quickly and opened the door in the top, A blast of cold air greeted him and he leaned in, relieved to see several large bags of ice. With a happy sigh, he closed the lid and started back to the front of the store.

Through the window he could see the attendant return the hose to the pump, tighten the gas cap and close the cover, then return to the store. Mike had been perusing the shelf of chocolate bars near the cash and he picked up two and tossed them on the counter.

“That’ll be five-oh-seven for the gas.”

“Thanks. Ah, I’ll take those two,” Mike pointed at the chocolate bars, “the fan belt, and I need one of those bags of ice.” He jerked his left thumb over his shoulder towards the small freezer at the back of the store then reached into his pocket for his wallet. 

The attendant punched keys on the cash register. “That’ll be seven-fifty-two.”

The older man fished a five and three singles out of his wallet and tossed them on the counter, picking up the chocolate bars and the fan belt. “Keep the change.”

For the first time, the attendant smiled. “Thanks.” He nodded towards the back of the store. “Help yourself to the ice.”

Mike nodded, heading towards the ice chest, slipping the chocolate bars into his pants pocket.

The attendant glanced up through the front window as a beat-up cherry-red Chevelle with racing stripes turned into the lot and crawled slowly around the side of the building near the abandoned cars and trucks. He turned back to the cash register and slipped the bills under the note clips.

# # # # #

Jeannie was humming to herself as she washed her hands, enjoying the warm water flowing through her fingers, when there was a knock on the bathroom room. “Occupied,” she said loudly, continuing to let the warmth cascade over her hands. There was another knock, louder and more insistent. She raised her head, frowning in exasperation, looking at the door in the mirror as she bellowed, “Occupied! Just give me a sec-“

Suddenly the door exploded inward with such force that the knob slammed into the wall, punching a hole in the drywall. She jumped, screaming slightly, as she saw the figure silhouetted in the bright sunshine of the doorframe.

Then, before she knew it, there were arms grabbing her roughly and a hand firmly covering her mouth. The sunshine disappeared as the door slammed shut again and, as she tried to scream and fight but knowing immediately she was no match and had no chance, she felt herself being dragged down onto the filthy bathroom floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Mike nodded at the attendant as he passed the counter on the way out the door, the large bag of ice in one hand, the fan belt in the other. He crossed the well-packed dirt to the rear of his dark blue Falcon, putting the bag of ice down as he fished in his pants pocket for the car keys. He found the trunk key and opened it, then took the lid off the Coleman cooler and put the bag of ice inside. He was leaning deeper into the trunk, reaching for the small metal tool box at the back, when he froze, frowning.

He straightened up, his head cocked, listening. He thought he’d heard a short, sharp, high-pitched scream of pain. He stepped away from the open trunk and stood still once again, frowning in concentration. He glanced into the front seat, realizing Jeannie hadn’t returned from her trip to the restroom.

His heart began to pound.

He started towards the far side of the red brick building, moving quietly as he continued to listen.

# # # # #

Under the weight of her attacker, Jeannie continued to thrash, trying to get a hand free, but he had straddled her, a knee on each side, pinning her arms against her sides. One hand was still pressed against her mouth and she threw her head from side to side as violently as she could, trying to part her lips. The back of her head was being pushed hard against the cold and filthy linoleum floor, her wide, terrified eyes staring up at the underside of the sink and the dim fluorescent light in the ceiling.

She could feel him rise up slightly and knew he was struggling to open his fly as she continued to fight him. There was a bone-chilling grunt of triumph and suddenly she felt his hand on her pants, fumbling to get his fingertips on the snap of her jeans. She bucked as hard as she could but he dropped his butt back down, sitting on her upper thighs, a deeply evil chuckle filling the air.

His concentration seemed to waver for a split second and she took advantage of the miscue to open her mouth. She thrust her lower jaw forward and clamped her teeth shut with all her might, the soft tissue of his palm firmly in her bite. With a scream of pain, he jerked his hand away from her mouth and shook it quickly then, before she could react further, the hand, now balled into a fist, came back down with unexpected speed and force, slamming into the side of her face. Her head rocked and everything spun and suddenly the hand was over her mouth once more as she struggled to stay conscious.

Almost immediately she could feel her left eye begin to swell and warm blood trickle down her temple and into her hair.

Unable to move, she heard the snap of her jeans popping and felt the short zipper ripped open and suddenly his hand was inside her jeans, inside her panties and, as he shifted his weight further down her legs, leaning over her to keep his hand over her mouth and his knees pinning her arms at her sides, her jeans and panties were pulled down to her upper thighs and he threw himself on top of her. 

With a whimper, she closed her eyes and tried not to think.

# # # # #

Other than the calls of various birds, energetic in the warm afternoon sun, Mike couldn’t hear a thing. He turned the corner of the building and stopped; a beat-up bright red muscle car was idling in the middle of the open area, its passenger door flung wide. He stared at the open car door then looked at the side of the building; a small sign sticking out from above a doorway read ‘RESTROOM’.

He broke into a run.

# # # # #

Her left eye starting to close, his hand still firmly over her mouth, Jeannie tilted her head back as far as she could, as if trying to distance herself from what he was doing to her body. She could feel him trying to force her panties down as far as he could while still keeping her pinned, and he was having trouble. She was waiting for an opportunity to try to fight back again but was rapidly losing hope. ‘Mike…’ the helpless plea floated through her terrified mind, ‘Daddy… I need you…”

She heard an almost giddy maniacal chuckle and felt her assailant’s hot skin against her own. She squeezed her eyes tighter and whimpered again, bracing for the assault she knew was only seconds away.

The door slammed open, hitting her feet; it bounced back then opened once more, flooding the small room with blinding sunlight. A deep almost inhuman roar filled the air and suddenly the weight pressing down on her was gone. Ferally, instinctively, she raised her legs, placing her feet on the floor and scuttling away from the door, pressing herself against the wall on the far side of the toilet. She clutched frantically for her clothes, trying to pull her jeans and panties back up.

Mike had grabbed the assailant by the back of his leather jacket, pulled him off his daughter as he backed out the door then threw him heavily to the ground. Without even taking the time to glance back into the bathroom, he jumped onto the momentarily stunned would-be rapist, straddling him with a knee on each arm and pinning him down with his left hand on his chest. Then, with a guttural cry that could only come from an anguished father, he brought his right fist down with so much force that the young man’s head snapped viciously to the side; his lip split open and blood droplets flew through the air. His eyes wide with fury, Mike struck his daughter’s attacker again and again, unable to contain his rage. 

Jeannie, still cowering on the bathroom floor, shaking uncontrollably, watched through her one good eye as her father continued to reign blows down on the man who just moments before had her in his dirty hands. Suddenly there was loud pop and she saw her father’s upper body jerk backwards slightly, his upraised right fist drop quickly to his side as he sagged, his head dropping forward momentarily. 

The assailant’s feet started to scramble against the dirt, trying to gain purchase, and he pushed himself out from under the momentarily subdued older man. His face a bloody mess, his moves jerky and uncoordinated, he scrambled away from the man who had just unleashed holy hell upon him and crawled on his hands and knees towards the open door of the waiting Chevelle. He reached up to grab the seat as unseen hands grasped his jacket and pulled him into the car. Then, without waiting for the door to close, the Chevelle, its tires spinning, tossed gravel in all directions as it rocketed across the parking lot and out of sight around the corner of the building.

Jeannie eyes were glued to her father’s back as he continued to kneel in the dirt; his shoulders were heaving. Then, slowly and carefully, he put his right hand on the ground and leaned forward then pushed himself to his feet as he turned towards the open door and, slightly hunched, staggered towards the bathroom. 

She couldn’t move as she watched him approach, the blinding sun turning him into a silhouette as he stepped into the doorframe. She couldn’t see his face and she felt her own features dissolve as a whimper escaped her lips. “Daddy…”

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here… you’re okay…” he whispered, trying to put an uplifting tone in his voice. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He slowly knelt beside her, using the sink to steady himself, then, his face coming close to hers so she could see him, reached out and gently put both hands on the sides of her face.

She closed her good eye, finally allowing the tears she had been fighting to slide down her cheeks, and her body began to shake from the sobs. She felt him move closer, rising up slightly to get his feet under himself before his hands left her face and she felt his strong arms slide under her back and her knees and slowly, with a groan that escaped through gritted teeth, he picked her up.

Her eyes closed, she rested her head against his shoulder as he stepped through the door and out into the warm sunshine. He could feel her shaking in his arms and he bit his lip, trying to contain the rage surging through every fibre of his body. Silently, staring straight ahead, he carried her around the corner and started towards the front door. 

He glanced at the blue sedan, its trunk still open, debating whether to just get his daughter out of there right away, but deciding to put a call into the local police in the hope that Jeannie’s assailant and unseen accomplice in their distinctive cherry red muscle car could be apprehended before they got too far. They reached the door and he stopped. “Are you okay to stand?” he asked softly and she opened her eye and nodded.

“Yeah…”

He smiled encouragingly as he leaned forward slightly, holding his breath, and lowered her legs to the ground. When her feet touched the hard-packed dirt, she looked up at him, trying to smile reassuringly, then she froze and gasped and reached out to grab his left forearm. “Daddy…?” She was staring at the growing patch of blood that was staining the left shoulder of his olive green shirt.

He was looking at her almost matter-of-factly, as if he expected her reaction. “I’m okay, sweetheart… it’s not that bad…”

“You were shot…” she whispered as if in a trace, continuing to stare at the frightening sight.

“If it was bad, do you think I could’ve carried you?” he asked with a warm chuckle, staring at her with a soft smile until she looked at him instead of the blood. He raised his eyebrows to punctuate his words. “I’m okay. It’s you I’m worried about.”

She squeezed his arm, still not convinced but willing to accept him at his word for the moment. “I’m okay too…”

“Good,” he smiled and turned to open the door. It didn’t budge. He frowned, trying to open it again before he noticed a CLOSED sign hanging in the glass of the door; all the lights were off inside the general store. He looked at his daughter, frowning. And he knew the shiver that snaked down his spine was a feeling they both shared. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered. “Are you…?” he asked as they started towards their sedan.

“I’m okay,” she assured him as she took his hand and squeezed.

His eyes scanned the area around them as he crossed behind the car, slamming the trunk, glimpsing the new fan belt as he did so. There was no time to change it now; he only hoped the old one would hold together until they could get into Eldred.

He looked across the front seat as he put the key into the ignition and smiled lovingly at his daughter, hoping the anguish he was feeling was not reflected in his eyes. She was still shaking, he knew, and she smiled back at him as warmly as she could. He nodded as he turned the key and engine roared to life.

The squeak from the fan belt was even louder, and both father and daughter stared through the windshield momentarily, both of them hoping for the same thing. Two miles was a long way to go. If the fan belt gave out, they would have to walk, and neither of them was in any shape to do that right now.

Mike looked at Jeannie and raised his eyebrows with a hopeful smile as he shifted into Drive and stepped lightly on the gas. The squeaking from the fan belt grew louder as the car left the lot and eased back onto the road heading towards Eldred. She lifted both legs onto the bench seat and wrapped her arms around her upraised knees, trying to stop the shivering that was coursing through her entire body.

Neither of them saw the cherry red Chevelle sitting on the shoulder around the bend behind them, its engine idling softly, waiting…


	4. Chapter 4

Apart from the incessant squeaking of the failing fan belt and the low rumble of the engine, the only sound inside the cab of the dark blue Ford Falcon was the deep and even breaths of its two occupants. Neither of them wanted to break the spell as, second by long second, the uneven pavement rolling beneath the tires brought them ever closer to the safety of civilization. 

Jeannie was still shaking as she stared almost mesmerized through the windshield, her arms wrapped around her upraised knees as her eyes begged for the welcoming sight of the approaching town. Her father had both hands on the steering wheel, watching the blacktop disappearing under the hood, keeping the speed only slightly above the 35 mph speed limit, listening for any change in the squeaking, warning him of the fan belt’s imminent demise. So far, so good, he thought, trying not to let the increasing discomfort in his left shoulder distract him from the task at hand. 

Jeannie glanced across the front seat, biting her upper lip as she stared at her father’s strong profile; she had never loved him more. She reached up and touched her swollen eye, a move that didn’t go unnoticed. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

She lowered her hand as if caught. “I’m okay…. How are you doing?”

He smiled. “I’m fine, don’t you worry about me.” His eyes flicked towards her then to the rearview mirror. He froze and his smiled disappeared. “Shit…” he whispered

She stared at him for a brief second then spun in the seat, looking through the rear window. A fancy-looking, bright red car was about a hundred yards behind them; it was the car she vaguely remembered peeling out of the gas station lot after the assault. She looked at her father again.

Mike was splitting his attention between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. She could see his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Put your seatbelt on,” he said quietly, not looking at her.

She was half-tempted to ask him why but changed her mind. She lowered her feet to the floor then reached down the side of the seat and pulled the belt out and across her waist, clipping it into the buckle. She could see Mike take his right hand off the steering wheel and pull his belt up. She leaned across the seat and took it from him, slipping the tongue into the buckle. He flashed a quick smile in her direction.

“We’ll be okay… we’re almost there,” he said quietly, encouragingly, and she nodded, returning the smile. No matter what the circumstances, she always felt safer when he was around.

His smile disappeared as he glanced in the rearview mirror again. He swallowed heavily. She felt the sedan pick up speed; the speedometer needle approached 50. Suddenly the squeaking that they had become used to stopped. Mike’s head went back slightly in frustration and he caught his breath. His hands tightened even more on the steering wheel and he glanced across the seat. “It’s gonna be okay. We can make it. I just won’t have any power steering, that’s all.” He tried to sound optimistic. 

His eyes flicked back to the rearview mirror then widened slightly. “Hang on,” he said sharply and she turned to look out the back window again. The red sports car was suddenly gaining on them. She looked at her father.

Mike, his eyes glued to the mirror, turned the wheel slightly to the left and the Falcon drifted into the centre of the two-lane blacktop, effectively blocking the way. He knew they had a gun, and he couldn’t afford to let them pull alongside and give them the opportunity to use it.

The Chevelle got closer, mere inches from the sedan’s back bumper. Jeannie turned in the seat again, but with both sun visors down she couldn’t see the faces of the Chevy’s passengers, though she knew one of them was her attacker. The muscle car shot forward and they rocked slightly when the bumpers touched.

Mike growled, clenching his jaw, continuing to divide his attention between the road ahead and the menace on their tail. He stepped on the gas, hoping the engine wouldn’t seize now that the fluids weren’t circulating.

Jeannie looked at her father then through the windshield. She turned to look out the back window again just in time to see the red car drop back slightly then accelerate. “Look out!” she screamed as the chrome bumper of the Chevelle slammed heavily into the back of their car, shattering the right taillights. 

The Falcon began to slew sideways across the deteriorating asphalt, the heavy front end pulling the rest of the sedan into a clockwise spin as Mike fought for control. With no power steering, it was an impossible task; he slammed on the brakes to try to slow the skid as the Ford headed toward the trees that lined both sides of the narrow road. “Brace yourself!” he shouted as the wheel froze in his white-knuckled hands.

They were still travelling at a high rate of speed when the dark blue sedan slammed grill-first into a large Ponderosa pine.

# # # # #

Steve kicked the door shut with his foot as he reached for the switch and flipped the lights in his living room on. He moved deeper into the room, dropping his jacket on the couch as he crossed to the answering machine beside the phone on the small table near the fireplace. It was flashing ‘0’. He growled in mild concern, loosening his tie as he flopped onto the couch, picked up the receiver and dialled.

As he listened to the rings, he toed his Blundstones off and ran a hand over his eyes, trying to ignore the knot of worry that was growing in his stomach. It was totally out of character for his partner not to give him a call when he returned from any time away, be it for work or pleasure.

After eight unanswered rings the answering machine kicked in and he dropped the receiver back onto the cradle. Staring into space, his exhale was loud and slow. Even if Mike and Jeannie had gotten home late, he would’ve answered the phone, even in the middle of the night.

He got slowly to his feet and wandered into the kitchen.

# # # # #

“So… did Mike and Jeannie drain the lake of all the fish?” Haseejian chuckled as he crossed the bullpen the next morning.

Steve shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on the back of his chair. His wan smile and worried eyes almost stopped the Armenian sergeant in his tracks. “I have no idea, Norm. I haven’t heard from him.” Peripherally, he saw both Tanner and Healey raise their heads and look at him.

“What do you mean you haven’t heard from him? I thought you said they were coming home yesterday?”

Steve shrugged as he pulled his chair out. “That’s what he told me. But they didn’t. I called his place last night and again this morning… but no answer.”

Healey had gotten to his feet and moved closer. “Well, maybe they were having such a great time that they decided to stay an extra day?” he postulated hopefully.

Steve, who had opened his top drawer and taken out a yellow, legal length pad, looked up with a brief mirthless smile. “Yeah, maybe… but you know Mike. If he changed plans, he would’ve called so I wouldn’t worry.”

“Well, there aren’t many phone booths in the middle of god-knows-where, right?” Haseejian offered with a chuckle. “I’ll bet you a box of sinkers he’ll call you today.”

For once, a genuine smile crossed the young inspector’s face. “You’re on.”

“Good,” the sergeant chuckled as he wandered back to his desk.

With a heavy sigh, his smile fading quickly, Steve sank slowly into his chair.

# # # # #

The phone in Mike’s office rang and Steve shot to his feet, covering the distance so fast he lifted the receiver in the middle of the second ring. Every eye in the bullpen was glued to his anxious expression as he almost barked, “Homicide, Lieutenant Stone’s office.” A split second later his face fell and everyone looked away as he leaned over the desk, grabbed a message pad and pen and made a note. Several seconds later he wandered back to his own desk and sat heavily.

Haseejian glanced up at his partner and raised his eyebrows, writing something quickly on a piece of paper then picking it up and holding it out. Healey glanced at the paper then nodded. With his own confirming nod, the Armenian sergeant got to his feet and crossed the bullpen, crumpling the paper and tossing it in a nearby wastepaper basket.

“Hey, ah, I gotta go out and interview a couple of witnesses to that suicide off the Bay Bridge yesterday. Dan’s, ah, Dan’s kinda tied up with that bodega shooting. You free to give me a hand?”

Steve looked up, a slight, knowing smile on his lips. “Ah, thanks for the offer, Norm, but I’d like to stick close to home today. Besides, I’ve still got some paperwork to finish up on the Marshall case. I’d like to have it all done by the time Mike gets back.”

“Sure, no problem,” Haseejian nodded with a encouraging grin. “I think I can manage on my own,” he chuckled as he headed for the door, tossing a glance in his partner’s direction. “I’m a big boy…” Healey chuckled.

Smiling, Steve returned to his paperwork, picking up a form and feeding it into the typewriter. His eyes shot towards the black phone on his desk, a move not lost on the sergeant watching him from the other side of the room.

# # # # #

Steve pulled the form out of the typewriter and put it on the stack already laying in the open file folder on his desk. He scanned it for omissions and errors then, satisfied, he closed the file, picked it up and got to his feet. He crossed to the filing cabinet in his partner’s office, glancing at the darkening skyline through the window. The sun set early in January.

He found the right slot for the folder and slipped it in. He was just shutting the cabinet drawer when he heard the door close behind him and turned to see Captain Devitt in the small office with him. The silver-haired older man smiled warmly. “So, ah, so what’s going on with Mike?”

Steve, who had returned the smile automatically, frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, word has it that he was supposed to be back from his vacation yesterday but you haven’t heard from him. Is that true?”

“Word has it, hunh?”

Devitt snorted. He glanced over his shoulder, through the glass panel in the door, in the general direction of Haseejian’s still empty desk. Steve shook his head in exasperation. 

“So,” the captain continued, “what do you think’s going on?”

Steve grimaced slightly, his head shake becoming more pronounced. “I have no idea, Roy. It’s not like him not to call, even if it’s just to tell me he’s changed his plans.”

“And you’re beginning to get a little worried?”

“I was a little worried last night,” Steve confessed candidly. “Now I’m just plain worried.”

Devitt thought for a beat. “Yeah, that’s not like him at all. Jeannie’s with him, right?”

Steve nodded.

The captain paused, pursing his lips. “Do you know where they went?”

The younger man opened the top right drawer of his partner’s desk. He took out a pad, turned it around and dropped it on the desk so the captain could see it. There were directions and a crude map in Mike’s handwriting. “He made me a copy. ‘Just in case’, he said.”

Devitt leaned over the desk and stared at the pad. Then he looked up and met Steve’s worried eyes. “Okay…. So, ah, so if you haven’t heard from him by tomorrow morning, I think you should drive down there and see what’s going on.” He smiled mirthlessly. “Do you agree?”

Steve stared at him for a long second, then nodded once. “Thanks, Roy,” he said quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

If it hadn’t been for the knot of fear and worry growing ever larger in his gut, it would have been a very pleasant and most welcome drive. After stopping by the Stone house on the off chance that Mike or Jeannie had, for some reason, left a message on their own answering machine, he had taken the 5 to the Grapevine, pushing his luck as he let his beloved Porsche do her thing. The mile markers had clipped by at an impressive rate. He had yet to spot a CHP speed trap and, to be honest, even if he was pulled over, he had his badge and his story at the ready. But luck, coupled with the fact that it was a Tuesday, seemed to be on his side, at least for the time being.

He had left before dawn, realizing it was going to be a long trip via the inland roads and highways, and it was early afternoon when he slowed the sports car as he entered the state park. He knew it would be a couple more hours before he reached the camp site that was just outside the park on the other side, and he also knew the park police were way more inclined to stop a speeder. And way less forgiving, no matter what the sob story.

The sunshine through the tall trees that lined both sides of the two-lane road was mesmerizing. It was an unseasonably warm late January day and he was taking full advantage of it. He had opened the windows when he’d stopped for gas, letting the wind whip his hair about, the dark glasses keeping the occasional errant strand from blowing into his eyes. He loved the feel of the cherished classic automobile that responded almost eagerly to his every command.

On any other day he would have really been enjoying himself.

He was through the state park almost before he realized it, and a dark green highway sign announced ‘Eldred - 10 miles’ in large white letters. His heart began to pound.

The small town turned out to be just that - small. Just beyond a motel that had seen better days, there was a fairly long main street with a few shops, a general store, a couple of restaurants that he wasn’t sure were open, what looked like a town hall building, and a gas station. There were homes lining the side streets that seemed to stretch out in both directions from what he could see as he drove past. He frowned to himself; maybe the town was bigger than it looked at first blush.

Though he didn’t stop, cruising through town at the posted speed limit, his trained eyes scanned every nook-and-cranny he could see in the off-chance he might spot Mike’s familiar blue Falcon. He didn’t.

He picked up speed as he passed the Town Limit sign. There was little to no traffic, which wasn’t surprising given the time of year. He glanced down at the crude diagram on the pad on the passenger seat. The road he was on was highlighted, and an X ahead and to the right marked a gas station/general store that seemed to be halfway between Eldred and the turnoff to the campsite.

He clocked the red brick building as he cruised past: ‘Charlie’s Gas & Go’. It was open. He might have to stop there to ask for directions, he surmised, if he couldn’t find the campsite.

But, surprisingly, he had no problem finding the turnoff to the lake, even though there were no obvious signs. The crudely drawn map was remarkably accurate.

He slowed down considerably, the low-slung sports car having trouble in the shallow ruts that passed for a road. Luckily it wasn’t too far to the lake, and fifteen minutes later he rounded a tall stand of bushes to spy the large green winterized tent pitched about fifty feet from the stunning deep blue lake. It was immediately obvious that Mike’s car wasn’t there and his heart began to pound.

He stopped the Porsche and got out. There was a slight breeze that rustled the leaves of the tall trees that surrounded the small clearing, the happy calls of various and energetic birds, and the gentle lapping of water against the rocks along the shore.

He moved slowly into the campground. There was a small fire pit, a metal coffee pot sitting on a large grill balanced on the rocks above it. He could tell even as he approached that the fire had been out for days. There was a Coleman cooler nearby, dirty plates and empty coffee cups, the detritus of a week’s habitation. Strung between two trees near the tent was a clothesline. Two pairs of socks, three t-shirts of various sizes and one of Mike’s shirts were hanging from it.

Steve approached the tent. The front flap was unzipped and he pulled it back and stuck his head in. There were two sleeping bags laid out on thin mattresses on the floor, two large duffle bags pushed against the wall near the door.

He backed out of the tent and let the flap go then looked at the lake. A short dock stretched out into the water for about fifteen feet. There were a couple of fishing rods and a tackle box on the dock.

As he got closer he could see a rowboat tied to one of the posts at the far end of the dock, bobbing in the gently lapping water. He walked out to the end and scanned the lake and as much of the shoreline as he could see. There was nothing out of place, nothing that triggered his cop instincts.

With a heavy sigh, he turned to head back to his car when he saw the shiny silver chain looped around the post on the opposite side from the rowboat. He knelt and reached over the side, grabbing the smooth metal chain and pulling it out of the water.

It was a fish stringer, and as it broke the surface he gasped. There were three fairly large fishheads in the clips and the tails, but all that was left of the bodies were the bones of the skeletons. He closed his eyes, feeling the sting of worried tears. He wasn’t much of a fisherman but he knew this once-fresh catch had been in the water long enough to have been cannibalized. 

It wasn’t a good sign.

He dropped the chain back into the water and got to his feet. He turned and looked back at the tent. “Where are you?” he whispered, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten.

# # # # #

He managed to get the Porsche turned around without doing any damage to the undercarriage and headed back towards the road. There was nothing he could do at the campsite, he knew, so the sooner he returned to Eldred, the sooner he could alert the local police that two people were missing.

The slow drive back to the road was frustrating but he knew he couldn’t risk pushing his luck. When he finally reached the asphalt, he almost stood on the gas pedal and the frisky little sports car tore down the road. 

It seemed no time at all before the gas station he had passed came into view and he stepped on the brake. If they’d needed supplies, chances are Mike and Jeannie would’ve stopped there instead of going all the way into Eldred.

He didn’t need gas so he pulled off to the side of the lot, away from the pumps. As he got out, he noticed the abandoned cars and trucks that had been parked along the treeline on the other side of the red brick general store.

Frowning, he walked past the glass front door to the corner of the building and let his eyes travel slowly up and down the row of damaged, rusty and dirt-covered vehicles. None of them was a dark blue Falcon, and he was both elated and disappointed.

He opened the glass front door of the ‘Gas & Go’ and entered the dimly lit general store. There was a young man about his own age behind the counter.

“Can I help you?” he asked flatly.

Steve smiled as he approached the counter. “Ah, I don’t know. I hope so. I’m looking for somebody. A couple of people, actually. An older man and his daughter. She’s about twenty, pretty, short dark hair… They were camping next to the lake about five miles east of here last week…” He shrugged slightly, pointing vaguely down the road, as the other man started to frown.

“Doesn’t ring any bells.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Ah, he’s a big guy…. ah, tall but not heavy. He’s, ah,” he raised a hand towards his face, “he has a rather, ah, unique nose.” He gestured at his own nose ineffectively and chuckled dryly.

Not even cracking a smile, the attendant shrugged again. “Sorry… didn’t see him.”

“Drives a dark blue Falcon…?” Steve tried again and this time received a head shake but no words. Sighing heavily he turned towards the door then looked back. “Thanks for the help,” he muttered, his tone more than halfway to sarcasm.

# # # # #

The drive into Eldred was made a lot slower. The almost studied indifference of the gas station attendant had tweaked something deep in his subconscious. And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that the man had been lying. But why?

And the voice in his head was suddenly screaming at him to be careful, that nothing he was going to encounter could be taken at face value. The fishing expedition that Mike and Jeannie had begun just over a week ago had now become his own, and he knew he would need patience, instinct and a deft touch if he wanted everything to end the way he needed it to.

And the only thing he knew for certain was, one way or another, he was not going home without them.

The trees began to thin out and the buildings of Eldred’s main street came into view. The Porsche was the only car on the road at the moment, and the few pedestrians gaped openly as the eye-catching sports car rolled slowly down the street. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the scrutiny at the moment, but he hoped he might be able to use it to his advantage at some point if the need arose. 

There was a small metal sign on a lamppost that read ‘Police’ with an arrow pointing to the right. Steve turned the corner. A single-storey grey brick building with a large ‘Eldred Police Department’ sign out front was a block down on the left side. There was a six-car parking lot out front and the neighbouring buildings were a distance off, making the somewhat modest structure appear bigger than it actually seemed at first glance.

Steve opted to park across the street, for a reason he couldn’t put his finger on at the moment. It just seemed prudent.

His trained eyes scanning the building and up and down the block, he crossed the street and approached the glass-and-wood front door. He was just about to open it when he stopped. He paused for a moment, frowning, then turned and walked to the corner of the building, looking towards the lot to the rear. From where he was standing he could see several cars, one of them a cruiser with Eldred Police painted on the door.

He started to turn back to the front door but paused again. Then, as if pulled by an unseen hand, he continued down the side of the grey brick building that turned out to be, deceptively, a lot deeper than it looked from the front. He reached the back corner and turned. 

There, in a small lot enclosed by a chainlink fence, sat what remained of a dark blue Falcon, its tires flat, its front end heavily damaged and its windshield shattered.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve felt his knees buckle and he grabbed at the brick wall to steady himself. So many thoughts were racing through his mind and he took several long deep breaths, knowing he had to calm down before he could even begin to figure out what he needed to do next. 

He was dragging air in through his open mouth, trying to slow his pounding heart, trying to think straight. Mike and Jeannie needed him right now, in ways he wasn’t even sure of at the moment and he needed a plan, and to get his fears and emotions under control so he could think straight. 

He looked at the car again. Okay, he thought, if they had been killed or badly injured in a car accident, word would have reached San Francisco by now. He knew Mike kept the ownership papers in an envelope in the glove box; it surely would have been discovered by now. And he always carried his wallet; it had his drivers license in it.

But Steve also knew his partner wouldn’t’ve brought his badge and I.D. or his gun with him, and there was nothing in the car or on his person, he thought, that would’ve identified Mike as an SFPD cop, so the call to notify the next of kin would’ve been made to the De Haro house. But there had been no call, at least as of very early that morning. So chances were, he fervently hoped, that they had survived whatever had done such extensive damage to their car.

But why had there been no contact? It had been almost two full days now since they had been scheduled to return to The City, and two days was a very long time. So what was going on?

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle, and dread began to push worry aside in the pit of his stomach. He leaned against the building as the adrenaline that had been coursing through his entire body began to subside and his legs felt wobbly. 

He looked around the parking lot, trying to decide on his first move. And the small voice in the back of his mind began to talk to him once again. He was in a very small town in a part of the state he didn’t know, and that didn’t know him. He had heard stories all his life, tales he had dismissed as folklore, of small, isolated towns where the normal rules of civilized society didn’t apply. The idea seemed far-fetched, he thought. But sometimes, as with most stereotypes, there was a grain of truth in the myth.

He inhaled deeply, pressing his back against the wall. He knew he would have to tread incredibly lightly until he could figure out what was going on.

He reached into his back pocket and slipped his wallet out. He opened the billfold; he had about seventy dollars in cash and his credit card. He was just about to put the wallet back in his pocket when he stopped and opened it again. He rifled through the receipts and business cards he had stuffed in with the cash. His eyes widened when he found the card he was looking for and he exhaled loudly in relief. He took the card out and slipped it into the same slot as the credit card for easier access.

Pushing himself away from the wall, he slipped the wallet into his pocket and started back up to the street. He had formulated the beginning of a plan; now he had to put it into action. 

Instead of going directly to the front door of the police station, he headed for his car across the street. He opened the passenger side door and leaned in to snag the sports coat lying atop his small overnight bag on the floor, a bag he had brought but hoped he wouldn’t have to use.

He was wearing jeans and a denim workshirt; if he wanted his still forming plan to have a chance of working, he needed to look the part a little more convincingly. He allowed himself a tiny smile; the Porsche would definitely help in that regard, he knew. He locked the car then shrugged into the jacket as he crossed the street to the large glass door.

He was just reaching for the handle when the door opened abruptly and a young uniformed officer charged out, almost skidding to a stop. “Oh, sorry,” the officer mumbled, stepping aside and holding the door open for Steve to enter.

With an appreciative nod, the San Francisco cop stepped past him and into a large room fronted by a counter that ran the entire width of the space. There were several wooden desks behind it, all but one unoccupied. Somewhere a phone was ringing; an older woman, her grey hair pulled back in a tight bun, one hand fingering the chain of her glasses, was sitting at one of the desks, a receiver pressed to her ear, deep in conversation. There was no one else he could see at the moment. 

Around the walls were the dark wooden doors to several offices, he assumed, one on the right with a large gold star over a brass plaque. No doubt the chief’s office, Steve thought as he waited. There was a framed notice on the counter listing the department’s personnel; the top name was Chief Roger Hogan. He nodded softly to himself, wondering what kind of man Chief Hogan would turn out to be.

The phone call continued. He wasn’t even sure if the woman had seen him so he stepped closer to the counter and laid both hands on it, palms down, making a little slapping sound. He saw her eyes flick quickly in his direction and he smiled expectantly but she looked away and continued to talk. He could hear no change in her tone to indicate she was going to cut the call short and he gritted his teeth.

Several very long minutes went by. He backed away from the counter slightly and pointedly looked at his watch. Still nothing. He was just about to clear his throat louder than necessary when the wooden door on the right opened and a tall, silver-haired, well-built man with the chiseled features of a Marlboro cowboy charged into the bullpen, a piece of paper in one hand. “Dottie, can you -?” his deep voice boomed in the quiet before he caught himself as his eyes fell on the woman on the phone, who had raised a silencing forefinger. “Sorry…” he muttered and was turning back towards the office when he spotted the man waiting behind the counter.

His eyes narrowing in a look that could only be described as suspicious, Hogan took a slow step towards the counter. “Can I help you?” he asked almost quietly, seemingly mindful of the conversation going on behind him.

Steve smiled, trying to get on the man’s good side from the start. “I’m, ah, I’m looking for a couple of friends of mine. Michael Stone and his daughter Jeannie? They were camping at the lake just east of here last week, and they were supposed to come home two days ago but… well, they didn’t…” He tilted his head with a helpless shrug. He had decided not to mention the Falcon, waiting to see if the chief would volunteer the information. The next few minutes, he knew, would tell him which direction he needed to go.

The chief stepped closer to the counter, his brows knitting as he shook his head. If he was surprised by the inquiry, he was doing a great job not showing it.

“Nobody goes camping this time of year. It’s too bloody cold at night. Are you sure you got the right lake? There’s a lot of ‘em around here, you know.” The chief was smiling condescendingly.

In a split second, Steve knew exactly what was going on. And he knew, for the second time today. he was being lied to, this time by a professional. Suddenly everything got a lot scarier, and he hoped his racing thoughts were not showing on his face. It was a skill Mike had helped him perfect over the years, and a lesson for which he was profoundly grateful. 

They stared at each other for a long beat, then a cold and knowing smile started to appear on the younger man’s face. The battle had been joined; Steve threw all his cards on the table. “Then why is his car in your impound lot?”

The demeaning smile disappeared and the grey eyes turned cold. “Who are you?”

“A friend, looking for a friend.”

The smile, and the snort that accompanied it, were cold and derisive. “Well, you’re gonna have to do better than that. I don’t have to explain anything to a… friend.”

Not taking his eyes off the other man, Steve took a step closer to the counter and reached into his pocket for his wallet. He opened it and, without looking, slipped out the card he had placed in the pocket with the credit card. With studied deliberation, still maintaining eye contact, he placed the business card on the counter. “I’m also his lawyer.”

The grey eyes narrowed slightly and Steve felt a sudden burst of elation that he’d managed to startle the man, not an easy thing to do, he figured. They stared at each other for several long beats before the chief looked down at the counter, his large fingers picking up the card. He stared at it for a very long beat before his gaze slid back to the younger man with an impressive defiance.

Steve knew that from this point forward nothing was going to be easy, and that he had to tread very, very carefully if he wanted things to go his way.

“What do you want?” came the low growl.

The grey-haired woman, twigging, albeit belatedly, to the drama playing out nearby, had silently lowered the receiver to the cradle and was staring at them, holding her breath.

“Where are they?” Steve asked flatly.

Hogan froze briefly before another cold smile curled his lips. “What makes you think they’re here?”

“Then where are they?”

There was a hesitation in the grey eyes and Steve steeled himself not to react. It was a small victory but an important one, and he knew it deep in his gut. Peripherally, he could see Dottie’s head snap back slightly and she frowned, almost in panic. He knew he had touched a nerve; very few people, if any, he speculated, stood up to the powerful chief. He pressed his sudden advantage.

“Where are they?” he repeated, enunciating every word.

Hogan’s eyes snapped to the card in his hand again. Still looking down, he said bluntly, “He’s here.”

Steve could feel the blood start to pound in his ears. “Where?”

Hogan nodded over his shoulder towards the back of the large room. “In a cell.”

The younger man swallowed heavily. “Where’s his daughter?”

“She’s not here,” Hogan snapped, making eye contact again.

“Then where is she?”

“She’s okay, you don’t have to worry -“

“Where is she?!” The anger in the voice was startling and Hogan’s jaw snapped shut. Steve warned himself to get control, there was too much at stake, and too much he didn’t know, to lose his cool already. 

Hogan took a deep breath, as if regrouping. “We couldn’t keep her in the cell beside her father in case they… coordinated their stories. She’s in a secured motel room near the edge of town.” He nodded vaguely to his right.

Steve swallowed, trying to process this first tiny bit of potential good news; at least Mike and Jeannie were alive and not in need, or so it seemed, of hospitalization. “Why are they under arrest?”

The grey eyes began to crinkle and the cold smile reappeared. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, Mr. O’Brien,” he snorted mirthlessly. “She’s been charged as a accomplice.”

The younger man frowned. “An accomplice? To what?”

The cold smile got even wider and the snort turned into a taunting chuckle. “Murder, of course. Your… friend…? He’s been charged with murder.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Murder? What do you mean, murder?”

Hogan’s cold smile got a little wider. “You heard me right.”

Steve stared at the suddenly smug police chief for a long silent beat. “Who is he supposed to have murdered?”

“You’re gonna have to ask him that. I’ve been told not to discuss the case with anyone.”

“Told by who?”

Staring silently for another long second, Hogan swallowed heavily. “It’s a good thing you happened along when you did,” he began with a derisive chuckle. “The municipal court judge isn’t scheduled to pay us a visit for another two weeks.”

Frowning, Steve blinked quickly several times as he tried to make sense of the cryptic comment. “Do you mean…?” He began angrily then paused and checked himself. “Do you mean my… friend is going on trial in two weeks?”

Hogan nodded once, languidly. “Unh-hunh. We do things fast around here.”

“Without a lawyer?” The younger man tried to control his rising temper.

The chief frowned in contempt. “What? You think we’re country bumpkins out here. He’da had a lawyer. We got a young public defender in town, just passed the bar. He’s a little green around the gills but…” He chuckled sarcastically.

Steve stared at him unblinkingly for several long seconds, his face an unreadable mask. Hogan finally lowered his head slightly and took a reluctant half-step backwards. His jaws clenched, the younger man growled, “I want to see him.”

After another long beat, Hogan, maintaining a defiant eye contact, took a couple of steps back into the bullpen and opened the top drawer of a nearby desk, removing a large ring of keys.

“Alone,” Steve barked, continuing to stare. “Attorney-client privilege.”

Hogan pursed his lips, glaring back challengingly, then turned his head slightly. “Dottie.” The older woman scrambled to her feet. He held the keys out and, without a word, she crossed to him and took them out of his hand.

She looked at Steve. “You can get back here through there,” she said, pointing at a small gate at the far end of the counter.

With a final glare at Hogan, Steve picked up the business card and slipped it back into the wallet still in his hand. As he put the wallet back into his pocket, he did as he was instructed. He felt the chief’s eyes on him as he followed Dottie to an unmarked door at the back of the room. She pushed the door open and he followed her into a large, windowless cement-walled room that housed two 12x12-foot cells. One was empty; there was someone lying under a dark grey blanket on one of the two cots in the other.

As they approached the door, the keys rattling as Dottie fished for the one she needed, Steve could finally see his partner’s face. Mike was on his back, his eyes closed, his hair disheveled and several days growth of grey stubble visible. The blanket, pulled up to his chin, was rising and falling in a slow rhythm; he looked asleep.

The tumblers in the cell lock snapped loudly. There was no reaction from the man on the bed and Steve frowned, feeling his heart start to pound again. Dottie opened the door and nodded once, not making eye contact. With a brief glance, Steve pushed past her and into the cell, stopping just inside the door. He wanted to wait until she had left the room before he approached the bed. He was worried that Mike would say his name when he realized who was in the cell with him, thereby jeopardizing the plan he had tentatively put in place.

He heard the cell door close behind him and the tumblers click over again. “Just shout when you want out,” she said matter-of-factly before she left the room. He waited till he heard the heavy wooden door close before he crossed quickly to the cot, dropping to his knees. He caught his breath when he saw three stitches in the badly swollen and bloody left eyebrow.

There was still no reaction to his presence and he wasn’t sure if Mike was asleep or unconscious. He gently laid his right hand on his partner’s chest. “Mike…?”

The older man’s head moved and his eyes opened slowly, staring straight up. He blinked a couple of times as if disoriented. 

“Mike…”

The head turned slowly on the thin pillow and it seemed to take forever until recognition flooded into the bloodshot blue eyes and they widened. A soft gasp of hope and joy escaped Mike’s lips and there was movement under the blanket as he lifted his right hand, trying to reach out.

Smiling, Steve grabbed the blanket and pulled it down to free the groping hand then froze, staring at the large dried bloodstain surrounding the small hole in the left shoulder of his partner’s shirt. “Mike…?” His voice was suddenly breathless.

The older man’s flailing right hand grabbed his forearm and the fingers tightened. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said quietly, staring at Steve’s face until the green eyes finally shifted to meet his own. “I’m okay…” he repeated again, punctuating the short statement with a slow, deliberate nod, his voice reassuringly stronger. “How did you find me?”

Steve smiled briefly. “I’ll explain later. What the hell happened?” the younger man asked breathlessly, his eyes flicking back to the bloodstain. He felt Mike’s fingers slide off his forearm as he reached out and undid the top three buttons of his partner’s shirt. 

Offering no resistance, Mike shook his head slightly. “A nightmare….”

Steve gently pulled the shirt open, the material stiff from the dried blood, to expose the two stitches closing the hole in the skin just below the collar bone halfway between the sternum and the shoulder. “How bad is it?” he whispered, his chest tightening in fear.

Mike smiled reassuringly. “It didn’t hit anything important. So, what do you know?”

Steve hesitated for a beat, knowing from the damage done to the Falcon that nobody could’ve walked away from an accident that serious with only a split eyebrow. But he also knew how stubborn his partner was, especially about his own health. With a frustrated and angry sigh to let Mike know he wasn’t happy, he shrugged, his brow knit with worry as he gently lowered the shirt then pulled the blanket back up. “Nothing. I don’t know anything yet -“

Mike’s hand had found his forearm again, squeezing as hard as he could to cut him off. “Look, I need you to do me a favour… before I tell you what’s going on. Okay?” He was staring unblinkingly, pleadingly.

The younger man hesitated for a long beat then nodded. “What do you need?”

“Jeannie. I haven’t seen Jeannie since just before the… the car accident,” he said cautiously, not sure if Steve was aware of the crash. When the younger man nodded slightly, he continued, “They just said she was okay and she was being held somewhere else. But they wouldn’t tell me where and I haven’t seen her or talked to her.” His face crumbled momentarily and he briefly closed his eyes with the despair. “I want you to find her, talk to her, see if she’s okay…. Please, Steve…. Then I promise I’ll tell you everything I know… but I can’t do that until I’m sure my daughter is all right…. Please…”

The anguish in his best friend’s voice was heartbreaking and Steve fought to control his own fraying emotions. He nodded, swallowing heavily. “Okay… okay, I’ll find her.” The lines on Mike’s face began to soften. “I’ll find her…”

The older man nodded, obviously relieved. “Thanks…” He squeezed Steve’s forearm once more then opened his fingers and let his arm drop back to the bed.

Steve put his right hand on his partner’s chest again and patted him gently. As he started to get to his feet, he stopped and leaned closer. “Oh, ah, by the way, I’m not Steve for the time being…”

Mike’s eyes focused on him again, frowning in confusion.

“I, ah, I took a… a calculated risk so I could get in here to see you. So for the foreseeable future I’m, ah, I’m your lawyer… Gerald O’Brien…” He chuckled dryly with a soft shrug. “I found his business card in my wallet and decided to take the chance.”

“That’s a helluva big chance,” Mike whispered, still frowning.

“Well, I think I’ve spent enough time in courtrooms and talking to ADA’s these past few years to fake it, at least for a little while.” He straightened up and took a step towards the door then glanced back with a warm smile. “Feel free to call me Gerry, by the way…”

For the first time, Mike smiled back. “I’ll have to remember that. Maybe I’ll just stick to ‘buddy boy’ so I don’t forget.”

Steve winked. “That’ll work.” He took a step closer to the door, grabbing the bars and rattling them. “I’m done in here, Dottie!”

# # # # #

Hogan was standing at his office door when Steve returned to the bullpen. “That was quick.”

The younger man made a beeline right for him. “He won’t tell me anything until I talk to his daughter. He wants to make sure she’s all right.”

The chief sighed demonstrably. “I already told him -“

“Well, surprisingly,” Steve interrupted smoothly, “he’s having a hard time believing you, so he wants me to do it. He’ll believe me. And, to tell you the truth, I want to see her as well, with my own eyes.” He flashed a quick cold smile. “So, you said she was in the motel on the edge of town. I’d like you to arrange for me to get in to see her - right now.”

Hogan met the green-eyed stare evenly. “So you’re representing her as well?”

“What do you think?” Steve shot back, knowing he had the momentary upper hand and hoping to take advantage of it.

The tall police chief inhaled deeply, sucking on his teeth as he took a step closer to a desk and picked up the phone. “The key for the lock is at the front desk. Just ask them to let you in. I’ll tell them you’re coming.”

“She’s locked in?”

Hogan shrugged derisively. “What did you expect? We’d let her come and go as she pleased? She’s charged with accessory to a murder, for god’s sake.”

“So what if there’s a fire? How could she get out?”

“Well, then I guess there better not be a fire, hunh?” He rolled his eyes as he dialled. “Yeah, hey, Jack, it’s Roger…. Great… Yeah, thanks. Listen, ah, I’m sending some… lawyer over there to talk to that, ah, that young woman you got -… Yeah, her. Anyway, the name’s, ah… O’Brien,” he glanced up at Steve for confirmation and received a nod, “and he should be there in a couple of minutes… Yeah, that’ll work. Thanks. Talk to you later, Jack.” He hung up. “You know where it is?”

“Yeah.” Steve had already started towards the small gate in the counter.

“You’re welcome!” Hogan called after him sarcastically as he disappeared out the front door.

# # # # #

The motel had definitely seen better days. Other than a dirty powder-blue Gremlin sitting in front of the office, the parking lot was empty. Steve’s eyes scanned the single-storey L-shaped building, which was painted a dull yellow, as he pulled the Porsche into the space beside the subcompact. The room at the corner of the L seemed to have bars on the window and a hasp and lock on the door.

As he got out of the car, a paunchy middle-aged bald man came out of the office towards him, eyeing the Porsche before looking at its driver. “O’Brien?”

Steve nodded, holding his hand out for the key.

The hotel manager snorted, jerking his head towards the row of rooms with a snarky laugh. “What, you think I’m giving you the key so you can just waltz her outa here?” He snickered. “Yeah, right, that’ll happen. You get locked in, sunshine, just like her.”

Following the man along the concrete sidewalk, Steve sighed heavily. “So how do I let you know when I’m done?”

“Bang on the door, I’ll hear ya.” The keys jangled in his hand as they approached the room. He banged his fist on the door. “I hope yer decent, sweetheart!” he bellowed. “Ya got a visitor!” He slipped the key into the lock.


	8. Chapter 8

The manager opened the lock and slipped it out of the ring then pulled the hasp free. He opened the motel room door, taking a half step back and gesturing for Steve to enter. With a sharp, almost angry glance in the paunchy man’s direction, the ersatz lawyer stepped over the threshold, hearing the door slam behind him and the lock returned to the hasp.

The room was dim, the only light coming in through the closed curtains of the single front window, which was covered with metals bars like he thought. They must have use for this room more often than one might expect, he thought with a mental shrug. 

The small, typical motel room was empty. The bedspread was rumpled, two pillows pushed up against the headboard. The chair from the desk was near the window, the desk itself littered with paper bags and plates, plastic cutlery and cardboard food containers. The bathroom door was closed.

He crossed the room quietly, pausing a beat before he rapped lightly on the bathroom door. “Jeannie,” he said hopefully, just loud enough to be heard.

The door was yanked open and suddenly Jeannie Stone was standing in front of him, her eyes wide, a combination of elation and terror, and without a word she flung herself into his arms. “Steve,” she whimpered as she grabbed him, squeezing so hard it almost drove the breath from his lungs. “Oh Steve…”

He pulled her close, resting his cheek on the top of her head and rocking her. “It’s okay, it’s okay…” he crooned over and over until he felt her start to relax. When he thought she had herself under control, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away slightly so he could look into her face. 

Her eyes brimming with tears, she stared up at him as if not believing what she was seeing. He tried to smile reassuringly, but he was appalled by her appearance. Her left eyebrow was still swollen and blood crusted around a single stitch, her eye was black, and there was a row of small stitches across her forehead at her hairline. He cupped her chin with his right hand. “Are you okay?” he asked almost breathlessly and she nodded as if in a trance.

“Oh, Steve…” She leaned against him again, her head pressed against his chest, and he felt sobs start to wrack her body. 

“Come on,” he said softly, “let’s sit down.” He started to lead her gently towards the bed. 

She pulled away from him as they sat, taking his hands as they faced each other on the edge of the bed. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here.” A strained smile emerged, some of the Stone resilience starting to shine trough. “How did you find us?”

Steve smiled. “Your father asked the same thing. I told him I’d explain later.”

Her face fell. “You’ve seen Mike? Where is he? How is he? They shot him, you know -“ she began in a rush and he raised a hand to quiet her.

“Yes, I just saw him. He’s okay, so you can relax,” he lied. “He’s worried as hell about you and he told me he wouldn’t tell me what happened until I came to see you and then went back to him and said you were okay.” He smiled in mutual understanding when she snorted and shook her head. He reached up and put his hand on her chin again. “Did this happen in the car accident?”

She started to frown then stopped, wincing. She raised her right hand and pointed to the stitches near her hairline. “This did.”

His brow knit as his attention automatically went to the swollen brow and black eye. “And that?” he prompted.

She looked at him silently for a long beat then asked quietly, “You said Mike hasn’t told you anything about what happened yet?”

He shook his head.

She nodded slowly, as if to herself. “Then I’ll let him tell you about it.”

His frown got even deeper. He was about to ask her why but he knew there was something deep and dark that she didn’t want him to know at the moment, and he respected her for it. So he just nodded. “I saw the car. That was a hell of a crash. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

She smiled sadly, then raised her left hand slightly and pointed towards her right shoulder. “I got bruised up a bit, but we both had our seatbelts on. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

He nodded solemnly then threw a cursory glance around the room. “Are you okay here?”

She shrugged. “I guess. Could be worse, all things considered. The bed is fairly comfortable and I have a TV,” she pointed to the small black-and-white on a stand across from the bed. “I know Mike doesn’t even have that.” She took a deep breath. “I’m really worried about him, Steve.” Her face began to crumble again and he reached out and grabbed her hands.

“I told you, he’s okay. And I’ll make sure he stays that way.” He smiled encouragingly. “And he’ll be relieved to find out you’re okay.” He glanced over his shoulder at the desk. There was no phone, he realized, but on an upper corner, beyond the used food items, there was a small pad and pen. He looked back at her and smiled again. “You want to write him a note and I’ll bring it to him?”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I?”

“Why not?”

She bit her lip, a smile building, then got to her feet and crossed to the desk, pushing the used paper plates and other garbage aside before picking up the pen and pulling the pad closer. Chuckling, Steve got up and looked around the room again.

“You don’t have any other clothes?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

Still writing, she didn’t look up. “Nope. They didn’t allow us to go back to the campsite so we couldn’t get our stuff. It’s all still there.”

“I know, I saw it.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “I went there first,” he explained with a shrug. She went back to her note.

When she finished, she stood, tore the page off the pad, folded it and handed it to him.

“Listen,” he said, stuffing the note is his jacket pocket, “I’ll head out there right now and pick up your duffle bags and drop yours off at the office here on my way back. How does that sound?”

Her smile was pure joy. “Oh, god Steve, I’d love that.”

He grinned. “Then consider it done.” He looked at her sadly, not wanting to leave but knowing he had to; Mike needed him more right now. “Listen, ah, how about the food? They feeding you okay?”

She nodded, glancing at the used paper plates and other detritus on the desk. “It’s okay. There’s a diner near here I was told, and they bring me food. It’s been… edible.” She shrugged with a soft chuckle. “How are they feeding Mike?”

It was his turn to shrug. “I have no idea. I didn’t have time to ask those kinds of questions before he sent me here.” He rolled his eyes with a commiserating smile. “You know how he is.” She laughed softly and nodded. “But I tell you what, I’ll stop by a diner on my way back from the campsite and get him a Reuben or something like that for dinner tonight.”

“He’ll like that.” 

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment before Steve stepped forward and hugged her again, being careful of her bruised shoulder. He rocked her slowly for several long seconds, neither of them saying a word, then he pulled back and looked down at her again. “Listen, I’ll, ah, I’ll be back sometime tomorrow. I should have Mike’s side of the story by then and…” He stopped and stared at her, his look suddenly somewhere between trepidation and embarrassment. “Oh, ah, for the foreseeable future, I’m not Steve Keller…” He could see her eyebrows begin to knit in confusion. “I had to figure out a way to get in to see Mike… and I had the feeling that just telling them I was a cop, from San Francisco no less, with no jurisdictional authority whatsoever, would get me absolutely nowhere. So, until we get all this sorted out, I’m Gerry O’Brien, your lawyer.”

She stared at him silently and he couldn’t tell what was going through her mind. She blinked slowly and deliberately. “Gerry O’Brien…”

He nodded slowly, punctuating the action with an apologetic smile.

“Gerry O’Brien, the ADA you and Mike work with…?”

He nodded again. “The same, yeah…”

“You’re pretending to be a lawyer?”

“Yeah…”

“And we have to call you Gerry…?”

“Yeah…”

She looked down at the floor, her expression unreadable. When she looked up again, he was expecting a smile. But there was genuine fear in her eyes. “I’m scared, Steve…. They’re setting us up, I know they are…” Her bottom lip began to tremble and he stepped to her quickly and enfolded her in another hug. 

“They won’t get away with it, Jeannie. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll make sure they don’t get away with it.”

# # # # #

It was almost two hours later when he pulled the Porsche into the small parking lot in front of the police station. He had made the quick trip to the campsite and retrieved the two duffle bags, taking the clothes off the line as well. He dropped Jeannie’s bag at the motel, getting a promise from the manager that it would be delivered to his ‘detainee’. He had also made a reservation, though it was obviously not necessary as there were no other patrons, for a room for the next couple of nights. 

He found it grating that the manager had made him prepay his stay with his credit card but he accepted the request with grudging amiability.

With Mike’s duffle bag in one hand and a large paper bag in the other, he entered the police station. Dottie was no longer there; a young recruit seemed to have taken her place. He approached Steve at the counter. “Yeah, can I help you?” the fresh-faced rookie asked with a smile.

Steve flashed a dry smile. “I’m Mr. Stone’s attorney. I’d like to see -“

Hogan’s door opened quickly and he strode into the room, his eyes brightening like an owl spotting a field mouse when they fell on the young man at the counter. “Back so soon, Mr. O’Brien? Have a good visit, did you?”

“I’d like to see my client again,” Steve said evenly, not rising to the bait, not wanting to antagonize someone on whose good graces he would have to rely on for access to his partner for who knew how long.

Hogan stared at him for a long beat before he nodded. Steve walked to the gate and let himself into the bullpen. As he started towards the back of the room, Hogan’s raised voice stopped him in his tracks. “Hey!” He turned expectantly.

Hogan nodded at the items in Steve’s hands then at his deputy. The young cop crossed to Steve and took both bags out of his hands, putting them on a nearby table and looking through them while Steve and Hogan maintained a tense eye contact. Finally the young cop looked at his boss and shook his head. “There’s nothing, sir.”

Hogan nodded at him once, his eyes flicking in that direction, then fixed on Steve again. “You’ve got an hour… and not a second longer.”

Without a word, Steve picked up both bags and continued towards the door to the cells. Behind him he could hear the young cop hurrying to get the keys then hustling to get to the cell door as quickly as he could. Steve waited patiently, staring at the figure under the grey blanket as he waited for the door to open, then again waiting for the cop to leave the room before he crossed to the cot.

Mike opened his eyes and looked up at him, smiles creasing both faces. Mike tried to push himself up without grimacing and Steve dropped the bags quickly to help him. “Did you see her?” Mike asked anxiously as he sat up, leaning for support against the bars alongside the cot.

Steve was nodding furiously. “Yeah… yeah, I saw her. She’s doing great, she really is. You don’t have to worry about her.”

Mike took an unsteady breath, his smile wavering as his lips trembled. Steve’s smile got a little wider as he reached into his jacket pocket. “Here,” he said with a gentle chuckle, handing him the note. “This is for you…”


	9. Chapter 9

Smiling, Mike folded the piece of paper and reached up to put it in the blood-crusted shirt pocket.

“No no no,” Steve said quickly from his position on his knees beside the cot, reaching up to gently grab his partner’s hand. “Put it in your pants pocket.”Frowning, Mike started to do as he was told. “Why?”

“Because,” the younger man answered as he opened the large paper bag, removed a somewhat smaller bag and set it aside, then dumped the rest of the contents on the blanket; a small bottle of iodine, a couple of rolls of gauze, a box of gauze pads, a packet of antiseptic wipes, two large tensor bandages, a small plastic bag containing a blue cotton sling and a bottle of Tylenol. Steve smiled. “Because I’m going to bandage your shoulder and then we’re going to get you into a clean shirt.”

Mike froze momentarily then shifted slightly, wincing, as he stuffed the note in his pants pocket. 

As Steve started taking the medical supplies out of their packaging, he gestured with his chin. “Can you get your shirt off?”

Mike nodded. “Umh-humh.” He started to undo the buttons. When he tossed the ruined shirt to the foot of the cot, Steve glanced up, catching his breath. He frowned as he stared at the deep purple bruise on the left side of his partner’s ribcage then looked up into the almost sheepish blue eyes. Mike shrugged carefully. “I think I cracked a couple of ribs when the car hit the tree.”

“I’m assuming a doctor is responsible for the stitches. Did he look at your ribs as well?”

Bobbing his head, the older man looked at him in bewilderment. “I think so… I’m not sure. I was kinda out of it when he was checking me over.”

“Has he been back to see you since?”

Mike shook his head. “I’ve been told he’s on vacation.”

Steve scowled. “Isn’t that convenient…” He looked at the bruised ribs again and shook his head. “Now I’m really glad I bought the tensor bandages.” He leaned forward to take a closer look at the stitched wound, frowning. “Is the bullet still in there or did he take it out?”

The older man’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, that’s a good question…” He thought about it for a second. “To be perfectly honest, I really don’t know.”

“Well, it looks like it’s healing okay but it obviously hasn’t been covered properly. I don’t want to take a chance so…” He looked at Mike and smiled apologetically. “I could only find iodine, and I know how much it’s gonna hurt, but I really think we have to do it.”

Mike stared at him for a beat then closed his eyes and nodded. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Okay, good. Ah, I think you need to lie down for this so I can pour a bit of the iodine into the wound, make sure it really gets in there, you know.” He helped Mike to lie back down on the cot then picked up the bloody discarded shirt. “Ah, you’re not going to be needing this anymore so I’m going to use it as a towel, okay?”

Closing his eyes, Mike snorted. “Knock yourself out.”

Steve chuckled, picking up the small, dark brown iodine bottle and opening the top. “Okay, brace yourself. This is gonna hurt.”

Mike wrapped his left hand around a cell bar in anticipation. Steve leaned over, the top of the bottle close to the wound, and carefully poured a few drops. Mike stiffened, inhaling sharply, his jaw clenched. The knuckles of his left hand turned white and his back arched slightly. His breaths were coming in short sharp bursts through his nose.

Steve watched, waiting silently until he could see the older man start to relax, the breaths starting to lengthen and deepen. Mike opened his eyes and snorted softly. “Well, I’m glad that’s over,” he smiled weakly.

Grinning, Steve put the cap back on the bottle and put it on the floor. “Okay, let’s get you sitting up again and that shoulder bandaged.” He helped Mike up then reached for the small box of gauze pads and removed two. He gently placed them over the wound. “Here, hold that in place, will you?”

Mike put his right hand over the pads as Steve took one of the rolls of gauze, flattened it out then placed it over the wound as well, slipping it under Mike’s fingers. The older man kept his eyes closed through the ministrations; Steve glanced at his face and smiled. He kneeled on the cot, one of the tensor bandages in his hand. “Okay, take your hand away and lift your arms slightly.” Mike did as he was instructed as Steve placed one end of the bandage over the gauze pad then started to wrap it over his shoulder and around his chest, careful not to aggravate both the gunshot wound and the cracked ribs.

“Listen, ah,” he asked as he worked, “why didn’t you tell Hogan you’re a cop?”

Keeping his eyes shut, Mike snorted softly. “Probably for the same reason you didn’t…” he said with a slight smile. “When I came to, he was in the room with the doctor… I could hear him talking before I opened my eyes… and I didn’t like what I heard…” He tilted his head slightly, his features contorting briefly in a facial shrug. “Something in my gut told me not to trust him…. I still don’t…”

Steve had secured the first tensor bandage and was pulling the plastic packaging off the second one. “Neither do I,” he said softly and saw his partner smile. “I think you called it right.”

Mike nodded, his eyes still closed.

“I’m almost done,” Steve said as he started wrapping the second bandage over the first for added support. He secured it with the metal clips. “There, done. How does it feel?”

Mike opened his eyes and glanced down at himself. He reached up with his right hand to touch the tensor bandages, running his palm over his now supported ribs. He took a tentative deep breath, exhaling through his mouth then looked at the younger man and smiled. “It feels a lot better, thanks.”

Steve smiled back. “Good. Okay, let’s get your arm in the sling and your shirt on and then we can have dinner.”

The older man’s head came up. “Dinner?”

“Yeah. I stopped in a diner on the way back from the campsite and picked us up a couple of BLT’s and fries. I don’t know how good they’ll be but I figured you can’t go too wrong with a BLT and it’s gotta be tastier than the stuff you’ve been getting in here, right?”

Mike was staring at him with a stunned but appreciative smile. “What, canned beans and baloney sandwiches?” he chuckled. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

Steve laughed as he picked up the cheap but functional flimsy cotton sling and helped his partner slip it on, adjusting the straps, then he reached into the duffle bag and took out the shirt that had been drying on the clothesline. “Here, fresh shirt.”

Mike took it from him with a grin. “I can put this on myself. I’ve gotten used to doing things one-handed over the years,” he chuckled.

As Mike struggled into the shirt, Steve opened the smaller paper bag, taking out two aluminum containers and two soda cans. He took the cardboard lids off both containers, the mouth-watering smell of fresh, homemade fries filling the air, and put one of them on the cot beside his partner. He opened the cans, putting them both on the floor then picked up the bottle of Tylenol. When he had shaken two pills out onto his palm, he picked up the can of ginger ale. “Here, take these.”

With a grateful smile, finished buttoning his shirt, Mike took the pills, popped them in his mouth then took the soda and washed them down. He smiled at the younger man. “You thought of everything…”

“That’s why you work with me, isn’t it?” Steve chuckled affectionately, putting the ginger ale back on the floor but within easy reach. He sat cross-legged on the floor, picking up one of the BLT quarters as a grinning Mike did the same. 

The older man raised his sandwich in a brief salute. “Thanks, Gerry,” he chuckled.

Steve laughed. “You’re welcome.” 

They enjoyed their first bites in silence then Steve looked up as he swallowed. “So, what the hell happened?”

Mike raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Well, I can tell you exactly what happened up to a point… but from then on, I have no idea.”

Steve glanced at his watch. “Well, you have abut 45 minutes to tell me. Hogan wants me out of here by then.”

Mike snorted. “Well, that’s not surprising.” He shook his head in irritation. “It won’t take that long, that’s for sure. To tell you the truth, it all happened very, very fast.” He picked up a couple of the fries and stuffed them into his mouth, giving himself some time. When he did start to talk, a soft smile lit his face as he stared into space. “We had a great week, we really did. It was very… relaxing, and Jeannie gave me all the space I needed. And we caught a lot of fish, eventually. So the day before we were going to leave… Saturday, we went out on the lake first thing and, man, we had a great day. Before we knew it we had two Kokanee salmon and a rainbow trout big enough to keep and then some.” He looked at the younger man and his smile grew a little wider. “We were gonna bring ‘em home and invite you to dinner… you know, rub your nose in it a little, seeing as you’d bet Jeannie we would come home empty-handed…”

Steve chuckled and shook his head; he realized that the fish heads he’d found tied to the dock were the ones Mike was talking about but he decided to keep that bit of knowledge to himself for the time being.

“Anyway, we needed to get some ice for the cooler so we headed into town later that afternoon. I wanted to get some gas so we wouldn’t have to stop once we hit the road the next morning so we stopped at that… that ‘Charlie’s Gas & Go’ just outside of town. Did you see it?”

Steve nodded but didn’t elaborate.

“Well, as we headed out, the fan belt in my car starts to squeak… and I mean squeak. The kind of squeak it makes when you know it’s going to snap at any moment. But we made it to the gas station and I went in to buy a fan belt and some ice while the attendant filled my tank. Jeannie decided to use the washroom… after a week in the bush, well, you know…” He chuckled softly, his gaze drifting away again, the sandwich and fries forgotten.

He took a deep breath. “I finally got out to the car again and I was putting the ice in the cooler in the trunk when I realized she hadn’t returned from the washroom…” He paused and took a deep breath and Steve, who had just taken a bite of his BLT, froze mid-chew. “The, ah, the bathroom was around the side of the gas station, near a row of junked cars and pick-up trucks… and when I got to the corner I saw this bright red muscle car sitting in the middle of the lot, the motor running, the passenger side door open… and I knew…”

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. Steve knew the older man was reliving the moment and he didn’t move. The silence lengthened between them until Mike opened his eyes again, looking down.

“The bathroom door was closed so I kicked it in… He had her on the floor… her pants were pulled down and he was on top of her…”

Steve felt the blood drain from his face and his heart constrict. He stared at his partner’s downturned head, almost afraid to move, almost afraid to hear any more. But he knew there was more…


	10. Chapter 10

Mike was staring into space, taking deep, slow breaths, knowing he had to get through this without letting his emotions get the better of him. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, the simple fact that he was now the victim telling his side of the story, albeit to a friend instead of someone whose neutrality might be called into question.

He inhaled deeply and held the breath for several long seconds before letting it out slowly. “The next few seconds are a bit of a blur…” He swallowed heavily. “I know I grabbed the bastard and threw him out the door into the dirt. I know I was straddling him and beating the hell out of him… And I know I wasn’t thinking straight…” His voice began to shake and he stopped, closing his eyes.

Steve waited without moving, his heart breaking as he stared at his devastated partner, knowing how hard it was for the older man to admit to his failings, to admit that he had lost control. He remembered how contrite Mike had been after he had gone after Leonard Cord in the office when he found out the newly released scumbag had been following and photographing his daughter. 

Mike exhaled softly and opened his eyes. They flicked briefly in the younger man’s direction. “That’s when I got shot. It came from inside the car… from whoever was sitting behind the wheel. It, ah, it stunned me… I really didn’t feel much pain, I was… in another zone, I guess… but it really didn’t hurt all that much. But it rattled me enough for the little bastard underneath me to get away. He crawled to the car and it took off.”

He stopped and closed his eyes again, taking another deep breath. His pinched features relaxed slightly, as if the worst of the story was over, though Steve knew it wasn’t. 

“I, ah, I carried Jeannie back to the store. I wanted to call the local cops, tell them what happened, but the store was closed and the lights were off.” He looked at Steve, frowning. “We had no choice, we had to get out of there, so we got in the car and started towards town. I didn’t have time to change the fan belt and I was praying it wouldn’t snap.

“We weren’t on the road for long before the car, that red whatever-it-was, suddenly showed up behind us…” He made eye contact with the younger man again. “They must’ve been sitting just around the bend, waiting for us to leave.” He swallowed heavily and looked down. “They stayed behind us for little while, like they were trying to taunt us. I told Jeannie to put her seatbelt on… I knew it wasn’t going to end well.”

He looked up again. “And then the fan belt finally snapped. I lost the power steering right away, of course, but I knew I could push the car to make it to town if I had too. And that’s when they came after us. They rode my bumper for a bit, trying to get alongside but I straddled the center line. I knew they had a gun and I couldn’t let them get any closer. And that’s when they rammed us.” He looked at Steve and raised his eyebrows. “We were going about 60. I didn’t have a chance. We started to spin and I had no control… we went straight for the trees.”

Mike looked down at the half-eaten BLT quarter in his hand and shrugged slightly. He put the sandwich back in the aluminum container. “So I woke up god knows how long later, in what looked like a doctor’s office, with the doctor and the… the chief standing over me talking about the accident and the dead guy…. I had no idea what they were talking about at first. I was in a lot of pain and I think I was drifting in and out. And by the time I got my wits about me, I found out I was being charged with murder.” He looked at Steve and shrugged again, this time with resignation.

“The murder of who?”

“The guy that tried to rape Jeannie. Johnny Seddon was his name, from what I gather.”

“What the hell?”

Mike snorted softly. “I don’t have all the details…they’ve been very… circumspect when it comes to telling me what’s going on… but it seems they found the… the muscle car in a ditch near the gas station with Seddon behind the wheel and a bullet in his head.”

“And they said you shot him?”

Mike nodded solemnly. “Not only that, but I was told they found the murder weapon in my car, with one bullet missing and my fingerprints all over it.”

“What? Was it the same gun they used to shoot you?”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t think so. The one they used on me didn’t sound that big… I’m pretty sure it was a .22. The gun they say they found in my car was a .38.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t bring your -?“

“No,” the older man cut him off, “of course not. You know I don’t take my piece with me on trips like this. Hell, I don’t even bring my badge. That’s why they still don’t know I’m a cop.”

Steve leaned back slightly. “Jeanne’s right, it is a set-up.”

Mike snorted softly, a soft smile playing over his lips. “She said that?”

The younger man smiled back. “Umh-humh.”

Mike chuckled, his eyes growing fond as he looked away.

“So,” Steve began slowly, “I’ve got my work cut out for me, it seems.”

Mike looked at him sharply. “You’re not thinking of doing this on your own -?”

“No, of course not,” Steve chuckled, echoing his partner’s words. “Don’t worry, I’m not that foolhardy, believe me. As soon as I leave here I’ll give Roy a call and tell him what’s going on and get him to send a couple of the guys down.” He frowned. “So what do you think… we both come clean as cops to let them know what they’re up against, or stay incognito for the time being to see how deep this frame goes?”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Good question. I think we stay under the radar as long as we can and hope you can uncover something before the others get here… and then we can make that decision as a group. What do you think?”

“I think you’re right,” Steve nodded slowly. “So I guess I’m going to be Gerry O’Brien for at least another twenty-four hours.”

The older man smiled. “I guess you are.”

“Well, could be worse,” Steve chuckled. “I guess the first thing I have to do is find out who this… Johnny Seddon, you said?”

Mike nodded.

“Find out who he was and why someone wanted him dead, despite the obvious, of course. And from what I’ve seen it’s not a big town, so I guess it’ll depend on how open everyone is.” He raised his eyebrows. “But I think if the police chief and the hotel manager, not to mention the guy at ‘Charlie’s Gas & Go’, are any indication, it’s not going to be easy.”

“Yeah,” the older man sighed. “You be careful, you hear. We don’t know what’s going on and we don’t how how much they are going to push back when you start to ask questions.”

Steve smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the soul of discretion.”

Mike chuckled and shook his head. His eyes wandered down to the container and what was left of his dinner. He looked up at his partner and chuckled again. “It’s a good thing I don’t mind cold fries…”

# # # # #

The finished the rest of their dinner in almost total silence, both of them mulling over the seemingly overwhelming dilemma facing them. It seemed almost inconceivable that a simple vacation could have taken such a horrifying turn so quickly and so easily.

Swallowing the last bite of his sandwich, Steve looked at his watch. He snorted. “I’ve got five minutes, if Hogan is a punctual man. And I have a sneaking suspicion he is.” He started to get to feet and gather the empty containers to put them back in the paper bag.

“Thanks for getting my duffel bag,” Mike acknowledged as he picked up his empty sandwich container and held it out.

“No problem. I figure you needed a change of clothes, even if they do smell like fish.”

The older man chuckled then sighed. “Well, it could be worse in here, I guess. At least I have a sink and a toilet and, all things considered, I’ve slept on worse.” He patted the cot beside him then looked at his partner with a twinkle in his eye. “But I do envy Jeannie her TV…”

Steve laughed softly. “I’ll tell her that. Listen I’ll try to get a newspaper or a paperback or something for you tomorrow so you don’t go completely stir crazy.”

“Thanks.” Mike smiled warmly. 

Steve had packed everything away and was now waiting for someone to come in to unlock the cell door. “Hey, ah, you want me to help you take the sling off so you can sleep better?”

Mike glanced down as his arm under the shirt then looked up and shook his head. “No, it’s okay, I can do it if I need to.”

“Okay.” Steve swallowed and nodded, feeling a lump forming in the back of his throat. “I’ll, ah, I’ll get in to see you as soon as I can in the morning, let you know what Roy says.”

“Okay.” Mike nodded. “And you take care of yourself, all right? Don’t take anything, or anyone, at face value, not until we know what’s really going on, you hear?”

“I hear.” The wooden door started to open. Steve flashed his partner an encouraging smile. “Try to get some sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He could see the older man’s eyes brighten, and Mike nodded.

“You too.”

The young recruit strode briskly into the room, studiously avoiding eye contact as he opened the cell door. The paper bag in his hand, Steve left without a backward glance.

# # # # #

Hogan was standing at his office door when Steve preceded the recruit into the bullpen. As he started towards the exit, he glanced over; Hogan’s face was expressionless. He stopped, weighing his options and deciding to take a chance. “Listen, ah, I need to make a long distance call to a colleague. Can I use a phone?”

A small cold smile spread over Hogan’s face. “Sorry, these phones are for police business only. There’s a payphone outside the grocery store, and there’ll be one in your motel room. Feel free to use either one of those.”

Steve was already heading to door again, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from tossing a expletive in the chief’s direction that would go nowhere in maintaining a civil detente.

# # # # #

It was cold and dark by the time he pulled the Porsche into the parking space in front of his motel room. As he got out, bringing his flight bag with him, he tossed a glance in the direction of Jeannie’s room; though the curtain was closed he could tell the lights were on. He looked at the office; an OPEN - VACANCY neon sign flashed in the front window and there was a dark-coloured Datsun 240z parked in front. He debated whether asking to visit Jeannie again then decided against it. He didn’t want to take the chance of alienating everybody on his first day. But he would definitely demand to see her in the morning.

Fishing the key out of his pocket, he let himself in. The room with identical to Jeannie’s, minus the bars on the window. He turned on the lights and tossed the flight bag on the bed then crossed to the black phone on the desk. He pulled the chair out and sat as he lifted the handset.

There was no dial tone. He pushed the switch hook buttons a couple of times, hoping to kick-start the dial tone, but the line stayed dead. Growling, he got up and followed the cord to the wall; there was nothing wrong that he could see.

Trying to control his fraying temper, he charged to the door and threw it open, starting for the office. The lights were off and the Datsun was gone. Frowning, knowing that this was not just coincidence, he looked around the deserted parking lot, trying to fight the sensation he was being watched. He fished his keys out of his pocket and crossed to the passenger side of the Porsche. He slid onto the seat and unlocked the glove compartment, glancing around fervently as he slipped his .38 into his pocket then locking the car again before returning to the room. He put the chain on the door..


	11. Chapter 11

He was staring up into the dark, unable to sleep. There was so much going through his mind, so many inconsistencies. He thought back over everything Mike had told him about what he had remembered about Jeannie’s assault and its immediate aftermath, and the unanswered questions kept running through his mind. What had happened after the accident? Did Jeannie remember more than her father? Did the unknown driver of the second car kill Johnny Seddon, or was it someone else? Why was Mike being framed?

He exhaled loudly in frustration. Why was he being kept from a working telephone? Was he being paranoid, or was it just a coincidence, a word Mike loathed and one he was becoming seriously disenchanted with himself? Was the motel manager in cahoots with the police chief? It sure seemed like it. But if he was, why did he believe the obvious lie when the credit card he had used to pay for this motel room bore a different name? True, a lawyer could carry a corporate card, which was the feeble explanation he used; he was lucky the motel manager hadn’t asked to see his I.D. or business card. But then again, Steve thought with a mental chuckle, business wasn’t so great at the moment, and any income was undoubtedly more than welcome. 

He didn’t have a choice when it came to the credit card. He didn’t have much cash on him, and he realized he most likely wouldn’t be able to get any from the one bank he had seen in town; it wasn’t the bank he used and he couldn’t very well use his own identification. His back against the wall, he had taken that chance; now he just hoped it didn’t come back to bite him.

The early closing of the motel office was puzzling as well, especially when he’d heard, on two separate occasions, cars pull into the parking lot and pause in front of the closed office, then drive off in what could only be described as a huff. It seemed that the motel did have a clientele, one that showed up late in the evening and only used a room for an hour, Steve smiled to himself. He had a feeling that tonight’s early closing was done specifically so he couldn’t confront anyone about his faulty telephone.

There was no doubt this was all a set-up, he knew, and he would have to figure out why. But he was also convinced that, though it had all the earmarks of a conspiracy, it wasn’t something that they had attempted before; it felt like things were being done on the fly. And that was something he could use to his advantage. He just had to find the chink in the armour. And he would start first thing in the morning. 

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, taking comfort in the knowledge that both Mike and Jeannie were alive and in relatively good shape. Now it was up to him to bring them home.

# # # # #

Stepping out into the sunshine, he locked the door behind him, looking down the concrete walkway towards Jeannie’s room before turning towards the motel office. The powder blue Gremlin was parked in front again, the OPEN - VACANCY sign flashing once more. 

The bald manager was behind the counter, reading a newspaper spread out on the desk. He glanced up without expression.

Eschewing any pretense of courtesy, Steve approached the counter. “My phone doesn’t work.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” the manager said dryly, going back to his paper.

Steve hesitated for a beat, clenching his teeth. “Can you fix it?”

The manager turned a page. “I’ll have someone look at it later today.” He continued to read.

The younger man sighed heavily. “So… can I use that one?” He pointed to the black phone on the desk beside the newspaper.

The other man didn’t even look up. “Nope. It’s a business phone.” His eyes remained on the paper as he pointed to the wall over his head. There was a small framed notice that read ‘Office Telephone is for Motel Employees Only’.

Not wanting to push his luck vis-a-vis the credit card, Steve swallowed his anger. “Yeah, I can see this place is so busy…” he muttered under his breath then swallowed another sigh. “Thank you,” he said flatly as he turned and left the small office. He exhaled loudly as he crossed back to the Porsche and got in behind the wheel. He took the .38 out of his jacket pocket and put it in the glove compartment beside his badge before he slipped the key in the ignition, trying to figure out what to do first. 

He knew he had to get in touch with Roy Devitt and let him know what was going on, and he also wanted to put a call in to Gerry O’ Brien. If the motel manager happened to mention the name discrepancy to Hogan, the chief might decide to check up on his identity. He knew Hogan hadn’t written down any details off the business card, but he had remembered the name and he would have noticed the San Francisco reference. It wouldn’t be hard to track down a lawyer named Gerald O’Brien in San Francisco.

Steve wanted to fill O’Brien in on what was going on, even at the risk of incurring his wrath, so the ADA wouldn’t inadvertently ‘blow his cover’ and might actually be able to confirm the ruse, if it came down to that. He needed to get to that payphone at the grocery store, he thought, and he needed to get change, and a lot of it. Both calls would probably be lengthy.

With a heavy sigh, knowing it was going to be a busy day, and realizing he had a lot of investigative paths to carefully wander down if he was going to figure out what was going on, he turned the key. 

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he turned the key off then tried again. Still nothing. With an angry snort, his heart beginning to pound, he took the key out of the ignition, got out and circled to the trunk, and inserted a key. He propped the hood open and stared at the engine. He was not a mechanic by any stretch of the imagination, and he always took his beloved car to the same garage for maintenance and repairs, but he knew enough to check the battery and all the wiring he could see. Everything looked normal.

He got back behind the wheel and tried again, with the same result. He sat quietly for a couple of seconds, trying to get his rising anger under control, then got out and locked the door, doing the same with the trunk. He stalked back to the office.

“My car won’t start,” he almost growled as he strode through the door and up to the counter again. 

The manager looked up languidly. “Oh? Gee, that’s too bad.”

After a tense silent second, Steve asked quietly, “Is there a mechanic in town that can have a look at it?”

The older man pursed his lips. “Sure is. Dennis over at the garage downtown is a pretty good mechanic. Don’t know if he’s ever worked on a Porsche before… but you never know,” he cackled wildly, the sound sending chills up the young cop’s spine. “You can ask him, if ya want. It’s on the way to the police station.” He went back to the paper.

Steve stared at the down-turned head for a beat then spun to the door. “Thanks a lot,” he said coldly over his shoulder.

He stood on the walkway for a beat, trying to figure out what to do next. He looked towards Jeannie’s room again; visiting her would have to wait, he decided. He had to get to that telephone; there was too much on the line here to delay that any longer.

He looked at the Porsche, trying to decide whether to take the .38 with him or not, then decided against it for now. He took the few steps to the sidewalk and started towards the grocery store, which, if he remembered correctly, was on the other side of the police station. He sighed heavily; at least it was a nice morning for a walk.

# # # # #

They tried to be discreet, but Steve could feel every eye he passed raking over him like a jeweller with a loupe. It was fairly annoying but behind the dark glasses he was getting used to not letting it bother him. But the more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t decide if it was just curiosity or they were all in on the set-up. Conspiracy paranoia was a real thing, he knew; he had read enough about it over the years.

There were a few houses along the main drag but mostly it was businesses of one sort or another, most of them seemingly boarded up for the winter lull. It was obvious that the town survived on its proximity to a very popular state park; stores that catered to fishermen, campers and hikers were temporarily closed, as were the vast majority of the restaurants. He had only found two open: the diner near the motel where he had bought their dinner last night, and a larger, more upscale restaurant closer to the ‘downtown core’.

He was hungry, but he wanted to make the phones calls before he did anything else, so he strode briskly past the garage, where Dennis could hopefully give his car a once over and diagnose the problem, and the police station, where he wanted to drop in to see Mike again and maybe bring him a late breakfast.

The grocery store came into view. And slightly beyond it, on the corner, stood an AT&T phone box; he smiled in relief. Devitt’s number he knew by heart, and he dug into his pants pocket for the change he already had on him. He knew he would need more to call O’Brien and would get that later in the grocery store.

He crossed to the box and picked up the handset, stuffing it under his left ear as he picked out a few dimes and started to put them in the slot. There was no dial tone. He froze for a split second, then depressed the hook-switch a couple of times. Still no dial tone. Holding his breath, he put one of the dimes in the slot, hoping that this might be the type of phone that didn’t connect until a coin had been inserted. He could hear it dropping down through the mechanism then stop; still no dial tone.

With a frustrated growl, he slammed the headset on the cradle, closing his eyes as he tried to contain his frustration. 

“Hey, mister!” he heard from close by and opened his eyes to see a young boy on a bicycle, one foot on the curb, looking at him. The kid grinned. “That phone doesn’t work. It hasn’t for a long time.”

“Is there another one in town?”

“You mean a phone like that one?”

“Yeah.”

The kid shook his head enthusiastically. “Nope.”

Steve sighed heavily. “Thanks,” he said almost under his breath.

“You’re welcome,” the boy said brightly as he pushed himself away from the curb and pedalled away.

His hands on his hips, Steve looked up and down the street in frustration. Was this just another coincidence, or truly part of a conspiracy? He was beginning to get the feeling he had become a character in a ‘Twilight Zone’ episode.

He looked at his watch. It was just past 8. He took a deep breath, trying to figure out his next move, now that making a phone call was out of the question for the time being. The grocery store was closed until 9, so dropping in there wasn’t even an option.

He decided to return to the diner for breakfast, though it was all the way back near the motel, and begin his investigation into the murder of Johnny Seddon there, hoping to talk up the locals. Maybe his luck would change and something would go his way for a change. It was as good a place to start as any, he figured. After all, what else could go wrong, he thought sarcastically as he started back the way he had come.


	12. Chapter 12

He had only gone a couple of steps when an idea hit him and he turned back to the payphone, his eyes widening with satisfaction. There was metal shelf at the bottom of the box and on it was what looked like a very thin phone book. He crossed back to the box quickly, glancing around to see if he was being watched. He couldn’t see anybody but he also knew that didn’t mean there weren’t several pairs of eyes watching his every move.

He pulled the phone book out as if to consult it; it was chained to the shelf through a grommet in the top left corner. He ran his hand over the part of the chain he couldn’t see under the shelf and felt a small bolt snap hook. Gritting his teeth as he tried to get his fingers around it, he finally managed to get a grip on the gate and pulled it down. He felt the link slip free and quickly pulled the chain through the grommet, folded the thin book and stuffed it under his arm.

He turned quickly and started back down the street towards the diner, a soft smile on his lips.

# # # # #

The general store was open when he passed it again so he went in, well aware once more of the scrutiny. Keeping his sunglasses on, he stopped just inside the front door to pick up a newspaper, keeping the purloined phone book stuffed under the arm of his jacket and hoping people were paying more attention to his face than what he was carrying. 

He tossed the newspaper on the counter then stepped back and surveyed the shelves of candies and other confectionary items. He picked up three packs of gum and two chocolate bars: a Milky Way and a Butterfinger. As the young man behind the counter stared at him, he smiled as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.

“Ah, that’ll be sixty cents,” the kid said finally and Steve took out a dollar bill. The kid picked up the single and turned to the cash register. “You want a bag?”

Steve shook his head, putting the wallet back and picking up his purchases. He put the candy in his pocket and stuffed the newspaper under his arm, hiding the phone book. He took the change with a nod and a smile and left the store.

The smile lingering, he took the paper and the phone book, folded them so the phone book was completely hidden, then stuffed them back under his arm. Then he continued on to the diner.

# # # # #

The garage the motel manager told him about came into view on the other side of the street. Steve could see a large, dirty, beat-up tow truck parked at the side, its thick, imposing chains dangling down from the wheel lift. He swallowed involuntarily, picturing his beloved, babied Porsche dangling from the threatening apparatus.

He sighed, closing his eyes. He really didn’t have much of a choice, he knew; Mike’s car was definitely out of commission and ‘Charlie’s Gas & Go’ didn’t have service bays. Exhaling loudly he crossed the street and entered the small office.

An older man with short grey hair, a grease-stained coverall and a welcoming smile nodded in salutation. “Good morning. What can I do for you?”

“Good morning. Ah, are you Dennis?”

The older man chuckled. “Me? No, sorry. Dennis is my mechanic. I’m Gary, I own this place.”

Steve nodded with a slight smile. “Oh, sorry. Ah, I’m, ah, I’m staying at the motel,” he gestured vaguely in that direction, “and, ah, well, my car wouldn’t start this morning. The manager told me Dennis would be the guy in town here to have a look at it for me.”

“What kind a car?”

“Ah, it’s, ah, it’s a Porsche Targa…” Steve said softly, trying to soft pedal the impact.

Gary’s eyes widened and he whistled. “Wow, we don’t get those around here too often.”

Steve shrugged slightly, almost apologetically. “Ah, so would Dennis be able to make a.. well, a house call, so to speak? I’d rather not have to get it towed.”

The garage owner was nodding. “Yeah, I can understand that. But there’s a bigger problem than that, son. Dennis is in Hawaii. He and the missis left on their annual winter vacation two days ago. He won’t be back for a week.” He smiled in commiseration. “Sorry.”

Steve froze, unable to believe his ears. “A week?”

Gary nodded. 

“Is there anybody else in town…?” Steve stopped mid-question; Gary was already shaking his head. He nodded softly with a creeping inevitability beginning to seep into his entire being. “Great…” he mumbled to himself.

“Sorry,” Gary repeated, shrugging. “There’s a great mechanic in Hesperia, but that’s over fifty miles from here. You’d probably have to get your car there on a flatbed.”

“Is there a flatbed in town?” Steve knew he was grasping at straws but his choices were quickly disappearing.

The owner shook his head with a contrite smile. “Sorry. But they can send one out from Hesperia. It’ll end up being a two-way trip anyway, won’t it?” He was trying to sound optimistic.

Steve nodded slowly. Visions of dollars bills floating out of his wallet were starting to flash before his eyes. “Okay…. Ah, well, thanks for the advice. I’ll, ah, I’ll think about it and let you know.” He turned away from the counter then spun back, his eyes falling on the the black phone on the desk behind the counter. “Hey, ah, I really need to make a phone call… about my car, you know. The payphone down near the grocery store isn’t working and…”

Gary had already moved to the desk and picked up the handset. He held it towards Steve, who’s heart jumped with relief. As he started to step around the counter, Gary shook his head and raised the handset even higher, punctuating his look with raised eyebrows. Steve froze. There was no dial tone. The garage owner shrugged. “It’s not workin’ this morning. Happens sometimes. We never know how long it lasts, sometimes it’s hours, sometimes it’s days.”

Steve deflated, nodding with a frustrated smile as he turned away.

“Sorry,” Gary called after him genially as he disappeared through the door.

# # # # #

He sat in a small booth at the back, hidden from the large front window and, hopefully, prying eyes. The diner was almost empty, the few patrons clocking his progress across the floor to the booth, and he could feel the surreptitious glances, usually over cups of coffee, as he ordered breakfast from the pleasant, middle-aged waitress.

He had covered the phone book with the newspaper on the table in front of him, ostensibly reading the front page. In reality, he was trying to work out his next move. He figured that most, if not all, of the town knew exactly who he was by now, from every indication, so there wasn’t much to be gained by pussy-footing around. It was time to take the bull by the horns and find out exactly how many people, if any, were willing to talk to him.

He figured he just needed one, and he would start with the waitress.

He slipped his wallet from his back pocket and took Gerry O’Brien’s card out. He could hear her approach with his coffee and palmed the card. He wanted to wait till she delivered his bacon and eggs so he could hopefully have her undivided attention for a couple of minutes at least.

The coffee was remarkably good and he decided to ask for one to go when he left; Mike would appreciate a good cup.

There was nothing on the front page of the newspaper, which had turned out to be yesterday’s L.A. Times, that mentioned anything about a murder in Eldred, of course; at least not on the front page. Watergate seemed to be the focus of most of the articles, and he made a mental note to read them later, when Mike was finished with the paper.

He wondered how his partner was feeling this morning. He hoped the tensor bandages had helped and that the older man had been able to get a good night’s sleep. He knew both Mike and Jeannie were hurting, not just physically but because of their separation. They hadn’t seen each other since the assault, and though they were both putting up a good front, the need to see and hold each other was a physical ache that nothing could assuage, he knew. And he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to make that happen.

He heard the waitress approach again and looked up, smiling warmly. As she put the hot plate on the table in front of him, he glanced at her name tag; Doris. “Would you like a little more coffee?” she asked.

“I’m okay for now, thanks,” he replied. 

She nodded and started to move away. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Ah, listen, ah, Doris, is it?”

She stopped and nodded. “Umh-humh.”

He held up the business card. “Doris, my name is Gerry O’Brien and I’m representing a man who’s being held in the jail here on a murder charge.” He saw her eyes widen slightly and knew immediately that she knew damn well who he was, even if she didn’t know his name. She looked at the card then at him. “I don’t believe he did it and I need to prove that. Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions?” 

If she was flustered, she did a good job of hiding it. “I, ah, I don’t know anything about that, Mr. O’Brien. I don’t know what I could tell you.”

Steve flashed his most charming smile as he put the card away, trying to remain casual even thought his heart was pounding. “Oh, I know you don’t know anything about the murder, but Eldred is a small town…. I’m sure you must be acquainted with the victim. Johnny Seddon?”

She flinched slightly at the name and he knew he had struck a nerve. She hesitated for a beat. “Everybody knows Johnny Seddon.”

Trying to hide his excitement, he said softly, “That’s what I thought. I’d just like to ask you a couple of questions about him. It won’t take long.” He gestured graciously at the bench seat opposite him.

She froze for a long second, shot a quick glance back towards the kitchen, then slipped into the other seat without a word.

Steve nodded. “Thanks.” She looked nervous, so he knew he had to be quick. He shrugged slightly, engagingly. “So, ah, what kind of guy was Johnny Seddon?”

She stared at him without moving for so long he thought she wasn’t going to respond, then she smiled wanly. “He’s… I guess you could call him headstrong. He doesn’t play by the rules, if you know what I mean.” Her sudden smile seemed more than a little artificial. She stared at him for an uncomfortable second before her smile disappeared. “Oh… I guess I should say ‘was’ now, shouldn’t I?”

Steve smiled with vague sympathy. “Ah, was he popular in town?”

A quick frown washed over her face, as if she wasn’t sure how to answer him. “Well, I guess it’s what you mean by popular. He was never alone, if you know what I mean.” When he raised his eyebrows with a facial shrug, she inhaled deeply. “There were some fellas about his age he hung around with, you know, but… well, a lot of people thought he was… well, he was a handsome boy and he knew it, and I guess that made him… a little aggressive…” She looked down at the table.

“Aggressive in what way?” Steve asked gently, not wanting to spook her as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“Well, he was a bit of a… well, a bit of a rake with the young ladies, if you know what I mean. Some of them liked it, but some of them didn’t…”

“Was he ever violent with them?” he tread lightly, keeping his voice low and steady.

“Doris!” a deep male voice roared from the back of the diner and she looked up and past him, her face suddenly stricken. 

“I’ve gotta go,” she said quickly, scrambling to her feet and hurrying towards the kitchen.

With a frustrated sigh, knowing he would get nothing more from her, for now at least, he looked down at his rapidly cooling breakfast and unrolled the paper napkin holding the knife and fork.

# # # # #

She had come by his booth once more with the coffee pot, and he had wordlessly accepted a refill and asked for a cup to go and his bill. She returned several long seconds later with the to-go coffee and the bill, which she slapped on the table facedown in front of him. 

He reached for the bill to turn it over as he slipped his wallet out of his back pocket then froze slightly when his hand touched a small folded piece of paper beneath it. Realizing it was a note, he palmed it as he picked up the bill, took a five out of his wallet and tossed it on the table, gathered the newspaper and phone book and headed for the door.


	13. Chapter 13

Trying not to increase his pace as he crossed the diner towards the exit, his heart pounding against his ribs, he was pushing the door open when he noticed the small newspaper rack beside the entrance and paused. ‘The Eldred Gazette’ the banner said; it was obviously a local weekly. There was a sign on the back of the rack that said ’10 cents’ and a slot in a small metal box. He fished into his pocket for a dime, dropped it into the box and picked up a paper.

He was a block away before he slowed down enough to take the small note out of his pocket and open it. In blue ballpoint pen it read: ’15 Elmira St, 7 tonight. Use the back door. Be discreet.’

He folded the paper and put it back in his pocket, his mind racing. He increased his pace; he wanted to get to the police station as soon as possible, but he had one more stop to make.

# # # # #

The coffee in the cardboard cup was almost cold by the time he walked through the police station door; he hoped Mike would appreciate the thought if not the actual brew. Dottie greeted him a little louder than what would be normal and Hogan exited his office, obviously alerted. The tall chief stared at him with a smirk. “I thought you’da been here a lot earlier, considering how serious this all is.”

A large paper bag in his hand, Steve moved to the gate. “My car wouldn’t start. I had to walk.”

“Aw, really? Hell, that’s too bad. Well, Dennis can fix that for you.” The concern in the words was belied by the flat, almost sarcastic tone of the voice.

Steve was starting across the bullpen towards the back door as Dottie opened a desk drawer and took the keys out. “Dennis is in Hawaii,” he said without breaking stride or looking back.

“You don’t say? Well, ain’t that a bummer.” 

Like Edith Bunker, Dottie had jogged across the bullpen to catch up with him. He heard Hogan clear his throat loudly and pointedly. He stopped and turned, eyebrows raised expectantly. The chief nodded at the bag. With a sigh, Steve stepped to the nearest desk and put it down. Hogan crossed the room slowly and pulled the top of the bag open, looking in.

He raised his head languidly, the smirk intact. “So, what? You writing the great American novel?”

“I need to take notes. You have a problem with that?”

Chuckling dryly, Hogan took a step back and nodded at the bag. “Fill your boots.”

With a soft growl, Steve picked up the bag. Dottie was holding the door open and he strode by her into the cell room. He waited patiently until she had opened the cell door, falling into the routine of standing just inside the door and not making eye contact with the occupant, who was lying in the cot once again, before she left the room.

As the door closed, Mike sat up as quickly as he could, pushing the blanket away, beaming. Steve crossed towards him with a smile, holding out the cup of coffee. He cocked his head. “It was hot when I paid for it,” he chuckled apologetically as Mike took it. 

“It feels warm,” the older man grinned as he took the plastic lid off and dropped it to the floor next to his feet. He took a sip. “It’s still warm. Thanks!” He held it up slightly and nodded. 

“You’re welcome,” Steve laughed softly as he put the bag on the bed. “You’ve given up on the sling.”

Mike’s left hand went automatically to the tensor bandages under his shirt. “It feels pretty good today, I don’t think I need it.” He took another sip. “So did you see Jeannie again?”

Steve took a step back and shook his head. “Afraid not. Not yet, anyway. I’m gonna spend some time with her this afternoon for sure, find out what she remembers, see if she can add anything to what you told me.”

Mike frowned slightly. “So what have you been doing?” he asked as his ran the fingers of his left hand over his now week-old stubble, trying not to sound judgmental. 

Shaking his head, Steve glanced around the cell, his eyes settling on the other cot. He dragged it closer to his partner and sat. “You are not going to believe what I’ve been through since I left here last night.” 

There was just enough lightness in the younger man’s tone to let Mike know he should be concerned but not worried. “Do tell,” he responded in kind, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he took another sip of the tepid but still most welcome coffee.

The younger man ran his hands over his face. “Jeez, I hardly know where to start.” He shook his head in frustration. “Okay, so, when I left here last night I went straight back to the motel to call Roy -“

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “So how did that go? Are they coming down?” he cut in and Steve glared at him through wide eyes, raising a forefinger.

“Don’t interrupt or this’ll take all day.”

Looking mildly contrite, the older man bobbled his head, hiding behind a sip of his coffee.

“And it didn’t go well, just so you know, because the phone in my room wasn’t working. So I decided to go to the office and use their’s but, of course, the office was closed. Now, this is the interesting part - it was open when I got there, so in the, what, minute that it took me to get into the room, drop my stuff and start to make a call, whoever it was in the office got the hell outa there.”

Mike’s brow had furrowed.

Steve shrugged. “A little suspicious, obviously, but it still could have been a coincidence.” He paused for the inevitable snort and wasn’t disappointed; he swallowed a smile. “But I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched, so I took my .38 out of the car and brought it into the room with me, figuring I’ll use the office phone first thing in the morning.”

“Good idea,” Mike mumbled cautiously. “Did you get any sleep?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Anyway, up early this morning and straight to the office, which was open, thank god, but, guess what? The phone in the office is for motel employees only. But, as I was told by the always helpful Chief Hogan, there’s a payphone outside the grocery store, which, of course, is on the other end of town. So I jump into my car and…” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

If it was possible, Mike’s brows knit even further. “What? It didn’t start?”

Steve nodded once, the gesture laced with frustration. 

“What happened to it?”

“I have no idea. I couldn’t see anything wrong with the wiring and the battery but then again I’m not a mechanic.” He sighed heavily. “The oh-so-accommodating motel manager told me there is a mechanic in town - a guy named Dennis - who could look at it for me.” He closed his eyes briefly and shuddered.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Mike couldn’t entirely suppress his amusement. He knew how much Steve doted on his prized possession. The smile, replaced by a concerned frown, disappeared the instant the younger man opened his eyes. “Do you think someone tampered with it?”

Steve frowned. “I don’t think so. The trunk locks with a key, and I don’t think you can jimmy it. I mean, a thin person could’ve gotten underneath it but…” He shrugged. “Anyway, I charged all the way across town to the payphone at the grocery store, still determined to make the call. And you’ll never guess…” he prompted, raising his eyebrows.

“That phone didn’t work either?” Mike ventured slowly.

With a mirthless smile, Steve nodded. “According to little kid on the bike, it hasn’t worked for a long time.”

“But didn’t Chief Hogan tell you…?”

“Yes, he did. And I’m having a hard time believing he didn’t know.”

“Yeah…” Mike was rubbing the top of the coffee cup across his bottom lip, his gaze suddenly far away.

“Anyway, thwarted once again, I headed back towards town in my quest for a working phone that I would be allowed to use. And I figured I’d go to the diner near the motel - where I got our BLTs last night - for breakfast and maybe talk to a couple of the locals. On the way there I happened to pass the garage I was told about and went in to talk to Dennis about my car.”

Having long caught on to the thread weaving its way through the narrative, Mike almost cringed. “And…?”

“And Dennis is in Hawaii. He started his annual weeklong vacation with his wife two days ago.”

“Son of a gun…” Mike mumbled dryly.

Steve snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I said.” They both chuckled softly. “The garage owner… Gary… suggested I have my car put on a flatbed and take it to another town god knows how many miles from here and have them look at it.”

“Unh-hunh…”

“But, on the upside, the garage had a phone. He was all set to let me use it, before he told me the line was out. Happens sometimes, he said; could last hours, could last days…”

Mike stared at him without expression. “Geez, do you think they still have party lines in this town? What decade are we in…?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Steve sighed heavily; their desperate, ‘grasping at straws’ attempts to make light of the situation fading away. “It’s more than just coincidence, Mike, that’s obvious. But there’s something… I don’t know. Something I can’t put my finger on just yet.” He stared at his partner worriedly and Mike nodded slowly, mirroring the look. The younger man attempted an encouraging smile. “Anyway, undeterred and remaining stubbornly optimistic, I finally made it to the diner.”

Mike smiled. “Good for you. Did you have any luck there?”

“Well, they didn’t have a phone the public could use, and I didn’t even bother trying to ask to use the one in the office - I could read the writing on the wall pretty good by then… but I did have luck in another area.”

Leaning forward carefully but eagerly, the older man raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

“My waitress’s name was Doris. I told her who I was - well, I told her I was Gerry,” he shrugged, “and asked her if I could talk to her about Johnny Seddon. That seemed to hit a nerve but she said yes. I didn’t get to talk to her for long, she was called back to the kitchen. But she did tell me everybody in town knew who he was and that he had a reputation as a ‘rake’, as she put it, with the ladies… and that he was ‘aggressive’ - her word.”

Mike’s stare narrowed slightly.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask her anything else,” Steve continued, “but when she brought me my bill, she slipped me this.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed Mike the note.

He read it and looked up, his eyes wide. “What do you think this means?”

“I think it means there’s more she wants to tell me, but she wants to do it on the sly.”

“Yeah…. You gonna go?”

“Of course.”

“Bring your gun.”

Steve smiled. “I will.”

Mike looked back at the note, frowning. Steve could feel the worry that was already emanating from his partner so he leaned forward and picked up the paper bag. “So anyway, I have lots more I need to do today, but before a I go…” He dumped the contents of the bag on the cot beside him. “I need you to do some investigative work for me. Do you feel up to it?”

Mike’s face brightened. “Me? You bet I do. What do you need?”

Smiling, Steve picked up a large ruled pad and two ballpoint pens and handed them over. He tossed the L.A. Times on the cot beside Mike with a, “That’s for later, when you’ve finished your work,” and a chuckle. 

Then he picked up the local newspaper. He had stuffed the phone book inside, in the hopes that Hogan wouldn’t notice it when he looked in the bag; he hadn’t. He slipped the phone book out, held it up and grinned like a naughty school boy. “I, ah, I ‘borrowed’ this from the phone booth.” 

“Okay…” Mike said slowly. “So what do you want me to do with that?”


	14. Chapter 14

Steve smiled wickedly with a low chuckle. “Well, I have a sneaking suspicion that our Mr. Johnny Seddon lived under the benefit of… shall we say, powerful family connections.”

Mike lowered his head slightly and stared at his partner from under a furrowed brow. “So you’re thinking that what he tried to do to Jeannie…” he paused and swallowed heavily, “that it wasn’t his first time?”

The smile gone, Steve nodded slowly.

Mike’s eyes slid away and his focus turned inward for a long beat. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” He took a deep breath then looked at the younger man again, nodding at the phone book and the local paper. “So you want me to go through those to see if I can figure out how big a hold the Seddon family has over this town?”

Steve shrugged slightly. “It’s a long shot but -“

“No no no,” the older man interrupted gently. “I think that’s a great idea.” He put the coffee cup on the floor then reached over and picked up The Eldred Gazette. “You never know what you can discover reading between the lines, right?”

Steve grinned. “Right.”

Mike laughed softly. “Great idea, buddy boy. I’ll get started right away.” He took the phone book out of his partner’s hand, smiling.

The younger man stared at him warmly for long second, grateful that he could bring Mike in on his own defence, even if it was only in this small way. “Ah, listen, I gotta get outa here. I want to find that house I’ve got to go to tonight. I want to make sure I know exactly where it is so I don’t have to stumble around in the dark trying to find it. That would hardly be ‘discreet’, would it?”

Mike looked up at him with a frown. “You be careful, all right? I’m worried about you out there on your own, especially now that we suspect the whole damn town may be in on this.”

Steve chuckled as he got to his feet, pushing the cot back against the far wall. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend on either becoming a victim or ending up in here with you.”

“Your lips…” Mike intoned quietly and the younger man chuckled.

“Listen, uh, anything you want me to tell Jeannie when I go see her?”

Mike stared at him expressionlessly then pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. “Just tell her I hope she’s doing okay and that I love her,” he said softly.

Steve smiled. “I will. Listen, ah, I’ll try to drop in again tonight before I head off to my… rendezvous.” He turned to go, then stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a pack of gum and the Milky Way. “Here. A little treat.”

The older man stared at the items in his partner’s hand then looked up, a smile building as he took them. “Hey, thanks, buddy boy.”

“You’re welcome. I got a Butterfinger for Jeannie.”

“Oh, she’ll love that. Hey, ah, thanks for the coffee too.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe tomorrow I can bring you one that’s actually hot.” Chuckling, Steve walked to the cell door and rattled it. “Doris, I’m done in here!”

# # # # #

Feeling a presence hovering over his desk, Haseejian looked up. Devitt was staring at him with a worried frown.

“Has anybody heard from Steve yet?” the grey-haired captain almost snapped.

Biting back a sarcastic and woefully inappropriate ‘Good morning,’ the Homicide sergeant shook his head. “Not a word yet.”

Devitt exhaled loudly and quickly. “I don’t like the sound of that. He should’ve gotten down there mid-afternoon at the latest yesterday. He said he’d call as soon as he had something to tell us.” He snorted softly. “I don’t like this at all.”

Haseejian nodded. The gravity of the situation was wearing on everyone in Homicide. There were a lot of very worried cops both in the office and out on the streets. 

Devitt stared into space for a long second then spun around, heading into Mike’s office and crossing around behind the desk. He threw the top drawer open then froze, his shoulders sagging. “Does anyone know where the pad with the map on it is?!” he shouted towards the bullpen.

“I think Steve took it with him,” Healey offered as he appeared at the office door, coffee cup in hand.

“Great. So does anyone know where they are?”

Healey glanced over his shoulder as Haseejian joined him, both of them shaking their heads. Devitt scanned the bullpen through the windows; all the detectives and uniformed cops present were shaking their heads as well.

“Great,” Devitt muttered under his breath, looking down at the desk, his hands on his hips. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what was written on the pad when Steve showed it to him the other day. “E,” he said, opening his eyes. “I’m pretty sure the name of the town near where Mike was camping began with an E.”

“There’s a lot of towns south of here that begin with an E,” Healey ventured tentatively, not wanting to poke the bear.

Devitt’s head snapped up, scowling. “I know that. But this one’s just on the other side of the San Bernardino National Forest, isn’t it? So that narrows it down quite a bit, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll find a map,” Haseejian said quickly, turning away and hurrying back to his desk.

# # # # #

Steve was looking for Elmira. He didn’t remember seeing it on any street signs he had noticed between the grocery store and the police station, but then again, he hadn’t been paying much attention. He decided if he passed it on the way back to the motel, he would check it out. If not, he would spend some time with Jeannie first and then try to find it early afternoon.

He was half-tempted to ask one of the locals he passed on the sidewalk, but nixed that idea, not trusting anybody. His paranoia was starting to run deep, he thought with a mental chuckle, then realized that it was really only paranoia if it wasn’t true. If the whole town actually was in on a big conspiracy, then he was just being carefully circumspect.

Buoyed by the self-diagnosis, and hiding behind his dark glasses, he let the soft smile that curled his lips linger as he continued down the wide concrete sidewalk.

# # # # #

There was a loud pounding on the door and the unpleasant voice she was becoming familiar with yelled, “Yer lawyer’s here again, sweetheart! He’s comin’ in!” She heard the lock slip off the hasp and the door opened.

Shooting a look of controlled anger over his shoulder, Steve stepped into the room and the door shut behind him, the lock snapping shut again. Jeannie was sitting on the bed, staring wide-eyed at the door. She tried to smile when she saw him, her bottom lip starting to tremble. He stood just inside the door and smiled at her warmly.

She pushed herself away from the headboard and crawled across the bed then stood and slowly wrapped her arms around him. He pulled her close and rested his cheek against the top of her head. He rocked her for several long seconds before he whispered, “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here.” He hugged her tighter. “Are you okay?” He felt her nod then she pulled away from him and looked up into his face.

“It’s okay… I know you’ve got a lot to do. How’s Mike?” She tried to control the worry in her voice but wasn’t totally successful.

“He’s doing great. I’ve put him to work on something I’ll tell you about a little later. He really loved the note, by the way.” He chuckled softly. “He didn’t share it with me…”

She smiled then pulled him towards the bed. He sat; she crossed to the TV and turned it off, then sat beside him. “So, what have you been doing? Have you found out anything?”

He held up both hands to slow her down. “Whoa, whoa…. In my role as your lawyer,” he snorted, rolling his eyes, and she chuckled, “I need to ask you all about last Saturday first. I need to hear what happened from your perspective, see if you can add anything to what Mike told me. Then I promise to tell you all about my last twenty-four hours.”

“Ooo,” she dragged out the vowel, her eyes crinkling, “sounds intriguing. I can hardly wait.” 

He laughed, relieved to see she was showing signs of her normal feisty self. “Well, preserve yourself in patience, my dear, or something like that.” She frowned at him and he laughed then reached out to touch her cheek near the still slightly swollen eye. He nodded at the stitches in her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

She bobbled her head. “I’m okay. I think I’ll need to get the stitches out soon but I guess the doctor is still on vacation.”

“I wonder if he’s in Hawaii too?” Steve muttered under his breath and she frowned in confusion.

“What?”

He chuckled. “Nothing. I’ll explain later.” He took a deep breath. “Well, hopefully we’ll be home in a couple of days and we can get a real doctor to look at the both of you.”

“A couple of days? Do you think it’ll be that soon?” Steve smiled encouragingly. “I sure hope so. But first, I need to hear about what happened on Saturday from you.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

# # # # #

He had pulled the second cot closer to use as a desk. He spread the local newspaper out, and balanced the pad on his knee, a pen at the ready in his right hand. He was still surprised, and grateful, he’d had the foresight to put his reading glasses in his duffle bag.

The Eldred Gazette had proved to be an interesting read. It was a combination of local news events and gossip, and columns about hiking, fishing and travel from regular contributors. He had already made a number of notes, and he hadn’t even cracked the phone book yet.

He reached down with his left hand and picked up the half-eaten Milk Way off the top of the duffle bag, not wanting to put it on the blanket beside him; he preferred his own germs and dirt to someone else’s. He straightened up to take a bite then froze, catching his breath. Dropping the pen, he grabbed the left side of his chest with his right hand, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Dammit,” he growled through clenched teeth, mad at himself. He shouldn’t have been bent over the paper for so long; his ribs hadn’t healed enough to do that yet. His right hand still against his chest, he put the Milky Way down, picked up the pillow from the end of the cot and stuffed it against the wall behind him then leaned back, closing his eyes again as he tried to drag long, slow breaths into his lungs, hoping the pain would subside.

# # # # #

“I was washing my hands when someone knocked on the door. I thought it was someone who just wanted to use the bathroom… but it wasn’t…” She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing him but not looking at him. He was perched casually on the corner, one foot on the floor, the other knee on the bed, his hands clasped casually in his lap, trying to keep his presence as low-key as possible. He knew that even though he was a friend, it was going to be hard for her to open up to him completely.

“I shouted that it was occupied but a couple of seconds later they knocked again. I yelled again and that’s when he kicked the door in. Before I could even move he grabbed me, he put a hand over my mouth and pulled me down to the floor…. It was so fast… and he was bigger and stronger than me…” She was staring into space, her eyes unfocused. 

“I tried to call out… to call for Mike… but he kept his hand over my mouth… my arms pinned to my sides…” She swallowed heavily, briefly biting her bottom lip. “He’d done it before, I know he had. He knew exactly what to do and exactly how I’d respond…” She blinked quickly several times and her eyes slid slowly in Steve’s direction. She stared at him for a long silent beat. “I wasn’t his first victim… I know I wasn’t…”


	15. Chapter 15

Steve was nodding slowly; since his brief conversation with the diner waitress, the same thought had been rolling around in his own mind. But he stayed silent; he needed Jeannie to finish her account on her own.

“I kept trying to fight back but he had me pinned…” She was looking down again and, almost incongruously, a small smile curled her lips. “I managed to bite his hand at one point when he was trying to get his zipper down…. I think I really hurt him.” Her smile disappeared and her left hand drifted slowly towards her eye. “That’s when he hit me…” Her voice was so soft Steve could barely hear her. 

“It really hurt… I think I almost passed out, I’m not sure…. My eye started to swell and I could feel the blood… He got more violent. He’d pulled my pants down… my panties… and I could hear his zipper…” She swallowed heavily. “There wasn’t anything I could do… so I just closed my eyes… and prayed…” She dropped her head and he could see her shoulders start to shake.

He wanted so much to reach out, to take her into his arms and comfort her, but he couldn’t. He clenched his teeth, trying to control the rage building deep inside. 

After several long silent seconds, she raised her head slightly. She knew she had to finish, for Steve, for herself and, even more importantly, for her father. She took a deep breath and released it slowly through her mouth. “He, ah, he laid on top of me… I could feel his belly against mine, his hand…. It was warm…” She stopped, shuddering, then looked up at the man sitting patiently in front of her. “He, ah, he didn’t, um…” She shook her head. “I heard the door slam open again and a roar… and suddenly he was gone…” A look almost of wonder creased her features. “He was just gone…. I crawled into the corner of the bathroom, to get away from him even more, but I could see him outside, on the ground, and Mike was kneeling over him, and he was hitting him… over and over…”

She stopped talking again and closed her eyes. Her entire body was shaking, and she started rubbing her hands over her upper arms. Although he couldn’t see them through the long sleeves, he knew she was probably covered in bruises. He swallowed his anger.

“I thought Mike was going to kill him…. I could hear his fist, hitting him over and over and over again… the moans of pain… and I just closed my eyes, I just wanted it all to end…” She dragged a deep breath into her lungs and held it for a long beat before letting it out in a strangled sob. “Then suddenly Mike was picking me up, carrying me…. I thought he was taking me to the car but he took me to the front of the store… but it was closed…”

Her head came up and she met Steve’s eyes. “I didn’t know Mike had been shot. I don’t remember hearing it happen… but he told me he was all right. And I believed him…” She smiled almost sadly, looking away again and shaking her head. “He can be very persuasive…” she said softly.

Steve allowed himself a quiet chuckle. “Yes, he can…”

Jeannie looked at him from under a lowered brow, her smile warm, and she snorted gently. “So we, ah, we got in the car. I know we both wanted to get out of there.” Her head came up quickly. “Oh, I forgot about the fan belt. The fan belt -“

“It’s okay, Mike told me about it,” Steve interrupted calmly with a nod.

“Oh, okay, good. Well, we were driving to town when they came after us. I know Mike was worried, he made us put our seatbelts on…. They got really close and Mike tried to block them, but then the fan belt snapped and they rammed us and Mike lost control…” She sighed heavily and looked down at the bed in front of her. “And the next thing I remember was waking up in the doctor’s office with stitches in my forehead and being told I was being charged with accessory to murder and that Mike was under arrest for murder.” The scowl she threw in Steve’s direction was laced with anger. “They didn’t even let me see him before they brought me here.”

Steve smiled at her warmly. “He’s doing great,” he said softly, encouragingly then nodded gently. “Thanks for doing that, it’s important that I heard everything from your perspective.”

She smiled softly and nodded.

“Listen, ah, I need to ask you a couple of questions, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, thanks. The guy that, ah, well, the guy - do you remember anything about him? What he was wearing, any facial hair, his hair color, anything?”

She frowned, tilting her head slightly. “Why do you need to know that? I mean, the man that was killed, he was the one who tried to… to molest me, that’s what they told me…. That’s why they say Mike killed him.”

“I know, I know,” Steve intoned soothingly, raising both hands, “but I just want to make sure the guy that… the guy that attacked you was the same guy that was killed, that’s all. It’s just Interrogation 101, I guess you could call it, that’s all.”

She stared at him for a beat then nodded. “I understand.” Her focus turned inward. “Well, he was a lot taller than me but not as tall as Mike, and he was slightly built, almost skinny. He had dark hair, kinda your length.” She gestured at him with her chin. “I don’t think he had a beard but there was stubble, I think. His hands stank of cigarettes. I tasted it when I bit him, and there was beer on his breath.”

“Good, good,” he said quietly, nodding. “What was he wearing?”

“A leather jacket, an old one but it wasn’t a cheap one. I think his shirt was red, maybe red and black check, I’m not sure…. Jeans. And boots. When Mike had him on the ground, I remember seeing boots, those square-toed cowboy boots.” She looked at him. “Is that enough?”

“Are you kidding?” Steve chuckled. “That’s better than enough, that’s amazing. I know a whole bunch of lawyers that would love to get you on the stand as a witness, that’s for sure.”

She smiled softly, half pride, half embarrassment. “I guess that comes from growing up in a house with a cop.”

He laughed. “Maybe.”

They both fell silent, their smiles lingering. Finally she said, “So, do you think…” She swallowed, as if not wanting to put her fears into words. “Do you think they’re going to able to do this, to pin this murder on Mike and get away with it?”

Steve smiled encouragingly. “Not if I have anything to do about it.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, ah, I promised you I’d tell you all about my day - and that’s gonna take awhile, believe me.” He smiled mirthlessly. “Why don’t I go get us a decent lunch and bring it back and tell you while we eat? Would you like that?”

“I would love that,” she grinned, reaching out to take his hand. “They never ask me what I want, they just keep bringing me ham sandwiches for lunch. They’re okay but I’d really like a salad.”

“Then a salad it is,” Steve laughed as he got to his feet. “Oh!” He stopped himself. “Before I forget.” He reached into his pocket and took out a pack of gum and the Butterfinger. “A little treat. I got your dad a Milky Way.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Jeannie chuckled, taking the candy. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now cover your ears,” he muttered as he crossed to the door, “and I’ll yell for our friend to let me out.”

She growled as she watched him. “I really wish he wouldn’t keep calling me ‘Sweetheart’. Only Mike gets to call me that.”

He stared at her for a long beat then smiled coldly. “I think I’ll tell him that… see what he says.”

Her face slowly lit up.

# # # # #

It was almost an hour and a half later before he left the motel room again. Over her Caesar salad and his bowl of ‘homemade’ vegetable soup, he told her his tale of woe, trying to keep the mood light even though the circumstances were far from frivolous. She knew what he was trying to do and appreciated the Herculean task.

Glancing at the Porsche with longing as he traipsed across the motel parking lot to the sidewalk, he began his quest to find Elmira Street. He wanted to appear casual, like he was just going for a stroll, hiding his darting eyes behind his dark glasses. He crossed to the other side of the street.

He knew there were streets parallel to the main drag, which was of course called Main, and he had a sneaking suspicion Elmira was one of these, which meant he had to wander down one of the cross-streets. How to do that and not raise eyebrows? he pondered. There was no good reason for him to do so; every place he needed to visit in a lawyerly capacity was on Main Street. 

He slowed down when he got the first corner, taking a quick look in both directions. He could see the parallel streets but they were too far away to allow him to read the street signs. He growled silently to himself, debating whether to turn the corner or not, when an idea hit him.

Trying to suppress his sudden enthusiasm, he continued down Main Street at a slightly faster pace, a man on a mission.

# # # # #

Beside the cash in the general store was a stand with postcards of San Bernardino National Forest sites and, towards the bottom, brochures for local tourist attractions and businesses that catered to the tourist trade. He picked several of them up, flipping through them like any tourist would. In the third one, for a local fishing guide, he found what he was looking for: a map of Eldred.

He glanced at the young woman behind the cash and held up the brochures. “I’ll just take these,” he smiled and she nodded. Stuffing all but one into his inside jacket pocket, he stepped out onto the sidewalk again, moving away from the store window as he studied the map.

Elmira was two streets parallel to Main on the other side. With a triumphant grin, he headed in that direction.

# # # # #

Elmira turned out to be three blocks long, lined with small, modest pre-war houses on both sides. In an effort to blend in a little more, he had taken off his dark glasses and jacket, which he was carrying under his arm, rolled up the sleeves of his denim shirt, and mussed his hair.

He glanced up casually at the first house he passed: 48. The next house was number 46. Great, he thought to himself, 7 was going to be all the way at the other end of the street, on the far side. He hadn’t wanted to walk the entire length of Elmira but now he didn’t have a choice.   
He walked with his head down mostly, not wanting to be caught checking the houses out. As he crossed the intersection to the last block, he started to shoot quick glances towards number 7. As he got closer, he began to frown. Even from a few houses away, he could tell it was different from its neighbours.

The bushes around the small clapboard bungalow were overgrown, the grass long and unkempt; the windows were boarded up. Number 7 Elmira Street was abandoned.

‘Well, that settles two things,’ Steve grunted to himself; it certainly made ‘being discreet’ easier, if he was extremely cautious in his approach in the dark, but it also meant there wouldn’t be a working phone for him to use.

With a disappointed sigh, he headed back to Main Street.

# # # # # 

Mike heard the door open and tossed the end of the blanket over the phone book next to him. Leaning on the pillows his had stuffed behind him against the wall, his right foot on the bed and the pad braced against his thigh, he continued to write, ignoring Doris as she opened the cell door for his partner.

When she finally left the room, they looked at each other.

Grinning, Mike raised his eyebrows. “Have a seat, Watson, the game is afoot!”


	16. Chapter 16

The thick finger traced over the thin black lines against the green background. “Okay,” Haseejian said slowly, bent over the map he had laid out on Mike’s desk, “I can see two possibilities…” He looked up apologetically into Devitt’s hooded eyes. “Ah, it’s a big park, Captain.” He was trying not to cast aspersions on the other man’s somewhat faulty memory. “So, ah, we have Edward here… and Eldred way over here.” He straightened up. “Do either of those names ring a bell?”

Devitt’s frown got even deeper and he made a low growling sound that both Haseejian and Healey chose to ignore. The captain’s blue eyes slid towards the sergeants and he pursed his lips. “They both do.” He ran a frustrated hand over the back of his head and growled again. “Damn it!”

The others waited.

Finally Devitt spun on them. “All right, I’m getting sick of this ‘Ten Little Indians’ scenario, so this is what I want to do. I’m sending you both down there… that whole safety in numbers thing. And I don’t care how long it takes, I want you to find everybody - Steve, Mike, Jeannie, all of ‘em, you hear?” Even though the question was rhetorical, both sergeants nodded. 

Devitt looked at his watch. “It’s too late for you to start out now, you’d get down there in the middle of the night.” He thought for a couple of beats. “I want you to leave just after midnight so you get there first thing in the morning.” He looked down at the map. “It makes sense to go to Edward first, it’s closer. Use one of our cars, bring your guns and badges. And pack a bag; this might take longer than we think.” He paused for quick beat. “This is a now a formal SFPD investigation into the disappearance of two of our own… but play it by ear. Only make yourselves known, and throw your weight around, if you need too.”

Both sergeants were nodding. “We know what to do, Captain. Don’t worry, we can be the soul of discretion if we have to be,” Healey smiled.

Devitt’s blue eyes slid towards Haseejian, who grinned back, nodding. “Yeah,” the captain muttered dryly, not entirely convinced.

“Don’t worry, boss,” the Armenian sergeant assured, “we won’t come back unless we bring them back with us.”

# # # # #

“You found something?” Steve asked as he crossed to the second cot and sat, facing his partner.

Mike had taken his right foot off the cot and sat forward, trying not to wince. “I think so.”

“Are you okay?” the younger man asked quickly.

With a sigh, Mike bobbled his head guiltily. “Yeah, I just spent too much time bending over the paper and I, ah, well, I aggravated my ribs. They’re a little sore.” His right hand, still holding the pen, gravitated to the left side of his chest.

“You sure that’s all it is?”

The older man glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Well, that and the fact the bandages have shifted a bit and they seem to have gotten a little tighter, so that’s not helping.” He squirmed slightly.

Steve got to his feet. “Then why don’t take them off and I’ll re-wrap you. And you can tell me what you found.” Without waiting for consent, he gestured at his partner. “Take your shirt off.”

With a scowl, Mike put the pad and pen down and started to undo his shirt. “Did you go see Jeannie?”

“I did,” Steve chuckled, “and she’s doing great, she really is. She’s worried about you, of course,” Mike began to growl as he worked on the buttons of his shirt, and Steve continued quickly, “but I told her you were fine and not to worry.” He reached into a pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. “Here, she wrote you another note.”

Mike froze, his shirt half off, took the note and put it on the bed beside him. “I’ll read it later.” 

“Okay. So what do you think you found?”

“Well, I think your suspicion that our Mr. Seddon comes from a, well, a ‘connected’ family is on the money.” He shrugged out of his shirt; the bandages had indeed bunched up in places and were digging into his skin. 

“Oh yeah?” Steve took the clips off the top bandage and started to unwind it.

“Yeah, but I don’t think the family name is Seddon. I think it’s Chisholm.”

“Chisholm?” Steve echoed, removing the top bandage and starting to work on the second. “Humh? I’ve seen that name on a couple of businesses in town. A real estate company, I think, and a feed and garden store.”

“Yep, you’re right,” Mike nodded, holding the dressing in place over the wound as Steve rolled the bandages. “There’re ads in the paper. There’s also an ad for a Chisholm fishing supply store and an ice cream shop. But that’s just the ones I could find in the paper. There are more listed in the yellow pages.”

“They seem to have their fingers in a lot of pies,” Steve noted as he pulled Mike’s hand away from the dressing to have a look at the wound, wondering if another dose of iodine, as unwelcome as that would be, was needed. Thankfully it wasn’t, and he put Mike’s hand back. “Raise your arms,” he ordered quietly as he started to wrap the bandages again.

“Yes, they do,” Mike continued. “Now, if our Mr. Seddon is related, and I think he is, then he’s probably a grandson, a daughter’s offspring.”

The younger man grunted. “Hunh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah, ‘cause there’s only a couple of Seddons in the phone book but a lot more Chisholms. And I have a feeling that there are even more Chisholms that are not in the book.” He looked at Steve and raised his eyebrows. “You know, the ones who really wield the power.”

Steve nodded. “That makes sense.” 

“And not only that,” Mike continued as his partner went about his ministrations, “I’m getting the feeling that this town has a, well, has a real problem with our Mr. Seddon but doesn’t know what to do about it.”

Steve, who had finished with the second bandage, sat back on the cot, frowning. He picked up Mike’s shirt and held it out. “How do you figure that?”

Smiling enigmatically, the older man took the shirt and started to put his left arm in the sleeve. He stopped for a beat, running his hand over the bandages across his chest, and smiled. “Wow, that feels a lot better. Thanks.”

The younger man nodded. “You’re welcome. You were saying…?”

“Oh, ah,” he put the shirt on but left it unbuttoned as he reached for the Eldred Gazette, opened it to a specific page, folded it and handed it to his partner. 

Steve, tearing his eyes from his partners’, looked down. There was a column called ‘Police Matters’. It seemed to be a list of calls and complaints that the Eldred Police Department had received or answered in the past month. From a quick scan of the first few bullet points, Steve could see calls to answer trespassing and burglary complaints and traffic accidents. There were a couple of notices about excessive noise and drunk-and-disorderly complaints as well. No names were listed. Frowning, he looked up at the older man.

With a mirthless smile, Mike pointed at a couple of items lower down. There were two statements he had circled. One was a domestic violence complaint; the other was a vague reference to a physical assault. Both notices ended with the phrase ‘No charges were filed’.

Steve looked up. “You think this was Seddon?”

Mike nodded once, sharply. “I’d make book on it. The way that car was sitting just outside the washroom door, the engine running… the way he had Jeannie pinned to the floor… that wasn’t his first time.”

The younger man’s eyes had drifted away and he nodded softly. “Jeannie said the same thing.”

Her father froze briefly. “She did?”

Nodding, Steve met his eyes again. A short silence filled the air between them then Mike whispered. “Damn it…” He ran a weary hand over his face and exhaled slowly. “I have a feeling that little bastard has been getting away with it for a long time…”

“And the town’s been turning a blind eye…” Steve finished the thought.

“So it seems…” Mike shrugged helplessly. “When one family owns about half the town, and the economy is as bad as it has been…” He tilted his head with a facial shrug. “I guess you can take a lot of abuse if your very existence depends on it.”

The younger man nodded. “But why pin his death on you?”

With a loud exhale and a snort, Mike leaned back against the pillows behind him. “I’ve been thinking about that. And the only conclusion I can come to is… as obvious as it sounds… is I’m the scapegoat.”

Steve stared at him from under a frown. “So, what? You think somebody finally got fed up with Johnny Seddon and put a bullet in his head -“

“And I was an easy target to pin it on because, maybe, I was the first person to really fight back, that Seddon had made a miscalculation when he went after Jeannie… I don’t know.”

“But whoever was with him, in that car, they shot you…?”

“Yeah, and I think that was a miscalculation too. I think that was done in panic, because whoever was behind that wheel honestly thought I was going to beat Seddon to death…” Mike’s focus had drifted away, as if he was reliving those horrific moments after he found his daughter on the washroom floor.

“Would you have?” Steve asked softly after a few seconds.

Mike looked at him. “Kill him?” When the younger man nodded, he shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about that too.” He looked down and inhaled deeply. Then he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I think I would have…” He took another deep breath. “I think the person in the car knew that, and they panicked, that’s all…”

“So, what about the .38 they say you used on Seddon and they planted in your car?”

Mike looked at his partner and a wry smile curled his lips. “I think the calibre is a giveaway.”

Steve frowned and cocked his head, trying to read between the words. “You think Hogan was in on it?”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you?”

After a beat, the younger man nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that too…. It sure would explain a lot, wouldn’t it? You seemed to be the perfect patsy: you had motive, you were incapacitated after the accident so they could plant the evidence, and, at first blush, you seemed like just a normal older guy with his daughter, not a homicide detective… which, in hindsight, was their first big mistake…” He sat up a little straighter. “I really have to find a phone. This is getting too big for just you and me, isn’t it?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, it sure is.”

Steve glanced at his watch, then looked away, obviously thinking.

“What?” his partner asked.

“I’m trying to decide if I should chance going back to my car to get my gun.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” The older man sounded worried.

Steve smiled with grim inevitability. “Because I’m sure my every move is being watched… and I have a feeling if they find me with a gun, that there’ll be some obscure law on their books that says only their own police officers can carry a handgun in this town and I’ll end up in here with you and then what happens?”

“That… or they push you into defending yourself… and call it a justifiable shooting….”

A grim, gut-wrenching silence lengthened between them as they stared into each other’s eyes.

Mike swallowed heavily and looked down, blinking quickly. He knew better than to try to talk his partner out of what they both knew he had to do. “You keep your wits about you tonight and you don’t take any chances, you hear me?”

Steve stared at him with a soft and appreciative smile. “I won’t, I promise…” He inhaled deeply then straightened up, determined to change the mood. “Listen, uh, I have a bit of time to kill. Why don’t I go get us some decent food for dinner?”


	17. Chapter 17

Steve had taken his boots off and was relishing the feel of the cold hard concrete under his sock-covered feet. He looked up at his partner, who was busy pulling a slice of pizza free of the cheese strands, and chuckled. “I think I know why cops get called flatfeet. I don’t think I’ve walked this much in one day since I was a kid running around Modesto. As you would say, my dogs are barking.”

Mike laughed. He nodded towards the dark leather ankle boots on the floor and shook his head. “You should get yourself a good pair of gumshoes. I know it’s a cliche but they really are made for guys like you and me, you know.” He stuffed the pointed end of the slice into his mouth and bit it off.

Steve raised his eyebrows condescendingly. “No thanks. Sometimes style is more important that substance.”

The older man chuckled as he chewed. “Well, don’t come crying to me when you develop corns and bunions and all those other wonderful problems.” Grinning, they both chewed in silence for several long beats then Mike said matter-of-factly, “That’s how he got his name, you know. Gummo Marx.”

Steve, who had shoved the second cot against the bars in the centre of the room and was leaning against the blanket he had pushed up against the cold metal, frowned, continuing to chew. “What?” he asked through a mouthful of the combination pizza.

Mike grinned. “Gummo Marx. You know, the Marx Brothers?”

Nodding as he chewed, the younger man continued to stare, bewildered. 

“He wore gum-soled shoes…”

His face expressionless, Steve swallowed. “And this is relevant… how?”

Mike glared at him through narrowed eyes as he swallowed as well. “I didn’t say it was relevant, I just thought it was interesting.”

“To you, maybe,” the younger man muttered under his breath as he took another bite of the slice in his hand.

“I heard that,” Mike snapped with feigned effrontery, picking up a piece of crust from the box beside him and, well aware of his physical limitations, rifled it across the cell as hard as he could without hurting himself. 

“Hey!” Steve ducked and it sailed through the bars into the other cell. They both stared at it, Steve turning his head, Mike raising himself slightly on the cot so he could see it, looked at each other in shock then started to laugh. “You’re in trouble,” Steve taunted with a smug grin as he resettled himself and took another bite of his slice.

Mike snorted. “That’s the least of my worries right now.” He let the silence settle over them for a bit then asked softly, “So, ah, have you made up your mind about your gun?”

Looking at what was left of the slice in his hand, Steve nodded. “I’m, ah, I’m not gonna risk bringing it. I think the odds are better if I don’t.” He knew Mike was staring at him, and he also knew his partner didn’t like what he was hearing, and he waited for the response.

The older man took a deep breath and held it, his blue eyes sliding to a space between them as he struggled with his conflicting emotions. He released the air in his lungs slowly and pointedly then met Steve’s eyes. “I hope you’re right,” he said quietly.

Steve smiled encouragingly. “So do I.” He started to push himself off the cot. “Listen, ah, I gotta get outa here. It’ll be getting dark out there and I want to make sure I’m close enough to the house that I don’t have far to go to get there in the dark.”

Mike tossed what was left of the slice in his hand into the box and closed the lid. He started to get to his feet as the younger man stepped into his boots. “Are you going to be warm enough?” he nodded at the sports coat his partner was getting into.

Steve shrugged. “I brought a sweatshirt with me but it’s back in the motel room.”

Carefully, Mike bent over and reached into his duffle bag, pulling out a dark grey sweatshirt. “It’s not the cleanest thing around and it might smell of fish a little bit - and it might be a little big,” he chuckled, “but why don’t you wear this.” He held it out.

“Thanks,” Steve said, taking off his jacket to put it on. 

Mike watched him silently. When Steve had the sports coat back on, the older man took a step towards him. Staring soberly into the familiar green eyes, Mike put his right hand on his partner’s shoulder and squeezed. He swallowed heavily. “I’m, ah, I’m not going to know what’s going on until you come back here tomorrow morning… or, god forbid, something else happens…” His hand tightened as his voice caught in his throat. “Be careful… please…”

Steve smiled, suddenly unable to trust his voice. Nodding, he took a step closer to his partner and carefully wrapped his arms around him in a brief hug. “I will… don’t worry…” He stepped back and turned to the door. He rattled the bars. “Doris!” he yelled.

This time Mike watched him until the outer door closed.

# # # # #

He was glad he had taken the sweatshirt; the temperature had dropped considerably and there was a stiff breeze. A reddish glow coloured the western horizon, foretelling a pleasant tomorrow; the sun had already disappeared. It was a cloudless night and the stars that had already appeared seemed particularly bright; there was only a sliver of a moon.

Eldred was a quiet town, at least on this night, and as he left Main Street on his way to Elmira, he was very conscious of the crunch of loose gravel underfoot on the broken pavement of the narrow sidewalk. He stepped into the street; it was marginally quieter. He wished he was wearing sneakers.

He was taking the shortest route to the rendezvous house, hoping to get there at least ten minutes before he was expected. After all, he wasn’t sure if Doris was the only person he was going to be meeting, and he wanted the upper hand, at least temporarily, if that was possible.

There were no streetlights, so the entire neighbourhood was dark, and being so close to a new moon was really helping as well.

Most of the curtains were closed in the houses he was passing, warm glows indicating the inhabitants were at home. He couldn’t see any telltale silhouettes of neighbourhood busybodies, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being watched. But, truth be told, there was no other way for him to approach the house so he kept his head down, listening for any sound that might be considered out of place.

He reached the corner of Elmira and crossed the street; number 7 was three houses from the end of the block. The living room lights were on in the house right on the corner but the second one was totally dark; there was no car in the driveway. 

He glanced around as surreptitiously as he dared as he headed up the grass border between the dark house and the abandoned one, not really believing his luck. He would have to be just as careful leaving, he knew, but he was grateful that his arrival was proceeding smoother than he had expected.

All the windows of number 7 seemed to be boarded up as he headed towards the backyard, taking each step slowly and carefully, not being able to see where he was planting his feet. He wished he’d brought a flashlight but also knew he wouldn’t’ve used it; a great way to call attention to yourself is wander around an abandoned house with a flashlight in hand, even if you were very careful. He was much better off going slowly and quietly.

His eyes adjusted to the dark and he began to make out shapes with a little more clarity. He turned into the backyard; there were wooden pallets stacked up against the wall, and he could make out an old rusty charcoal grill and a wooden picnic bench on the broken tiles of a small patio.

There was a door with a screen in the middle of the back wall. He opened the screen door slowly, hoping it didn’t squeak. His luck held. He grabbed the knob on the wooden door with the small glass window and was surprised when it turned easily. Holding the screen door open with his other hand, he stepped into the pitch black house, easing the screen door closed behind him. 

He stood in the open doorway for a few long beats, allowing his eyes to adjust as much as they could, then closed the door. He couldn’t see a thing. He groped along the walls for a light switch. Finding one on his right he flipped it up but, as expected, nothing happened. 

He could tell there was a entrance to his left and he took a step in that direction. He reached out tentatively, feeling a counter on his left and what seemed to be a stove on his right. He was in the kitchen.

Moving carefully, he crossed the room slowly, feeling in front of him like a blind man, more worried he would bump his head than his shin. He finally made it to the other side of the kitchen and stepped into what he assumed was the dining room. There didn’t seem to be any furniture; at least none that he could feel from the doorway.

He was just about to start across the dining room when he heard the screen door open and he froze.

# # # # #

She was staring at the TV but Walter Cronkite’s soothing, authoritative tones were not penetrating her despondency, not tonight at least. Almost absent-mindedly she reached up and touched her slowly healing eyebrow, her face crumbling slowly. She bit her lip, trying to stop it from trembling as tears blurred her vision and sobs started constricting her throat. 

She had been battling her emotions ever since Steve had left. Telling him what had happened, putting it into words for the first time to someone who really cared, had brought everything flooding back, everything she had been trying to put out of her mind since she had woken up in the doctor’s office after the accident.

She wanted all this to be over, this nightmare they were living. She wanted to leave this room. She wanted to see her father and she wanted to go home.

Very slowly, her sobs no longer silent, she curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest and finally allowing her grief and anger to escape.

# # # # #

Mike looked at his watch. 6:47. He leaned the back of his head against the wall. He was sitting sideways on the cot, both feet up, his right arm wrapped around his shins, in a kind of vertical fetal position. He was trying to find a posture that didn’t aggravate his ribs but so far, other than lying flat on his back, he hadn’t been completely successful.

He closed his eyes. He knew Steve would be at the abandoned house already. He could feel his heart begin to pound and knew he had to distract himself; unless the worst happened, it would be at least another twelve hours before he would find out what would transpire tonight.

He started to go over everything he had talked to his partner about, his theory that maybe the whole town wanted to get rid of Johnny Seddon and that he was their scapegoat. If that was true, just how far were they prepared to go?, he wondered. One life had already been lost; were they willing to take another to make sure their plot wasn’t exposed.


	18. Chapter 18

He heard the heavy wooden back door open and the sound of soft footfalls as someone stepped into the house. The screen door closed, then the wooden one. There was a muted click and Steve could see a soft glow on the kitchen floor at the backdoor entrance.

Suddenly a sickening feeling washed over him. If this was Doris, and it most likely was, he didn’t want to scare the wits out of her by suddenly appearing; frightening her had not been his intention. He had just balled his right fist to knock on a nearby wall as a hopefully subtle signal when he heard a soft, “Mr. O’Brien?”

He froze, startled, and it took him a beat before he could answer. “Ah, yes… Doris?” He took a couple of steps back into the kitchen and watched as the light on the floor started to move slowly in his direction, realizing she must have been watching the house from a concealed spot nearby. 

A figure appeared in the kitchen entrance; the flashlight beam, remaining on the floor, slid towards him. There was enough bounce off the pale-coloured linoleum to illuminate his face then the light went out. “Yes, it’s me,” came a voice he recognized. There was an awkward pause then she said, “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.”

Despite everything, and even knowing she couldn’t see him, he smiled. “Well, you made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he said lightly, and heard her chuckle in response. 

“I, ah, I don’t want to keep you, Mr. O’Brien, but, well, when you asked me about Johnny Seddon this morning…” Her voice trailed off and he knew she was having second thoughts. He needed to make sure she wouldn’t change her mind.

“He’s one of the Chisholms, isn’t he?” Steve asked, and he heard her gasp.

“How do you know that?”

“Lawyers are like cops, Doris. We can find out all kinds of things.” He paused for a beat. “What he did to that young woman who’s under arrest for accessory to murder… he’d done that before, hadn’t he? He’d… forced himself on other young women before…”

He heard her inhale and he waited. 

“Yes.. more than once…”

“And he never paid for it? He was never arrested?”

She snorted softly. “Of course not…. He’s a Chisholm.”

Steve swallowed, trying to control the anger and frustration that was starting to build deep inside. “And the whole town has been covering it up?”

There was another uncomfortable silence. “Not the whole town… not me…”

“Why not you?” he asked quietly, treading softly.

After a short beat, she asked angrily. “How do you know for sure your client didn’t kill Johnny?”

The question caught him off-guard. “Because I know him. Not just as a client but as a friend. He wouldn’t do that kind of thing. It’s not who he is.”

“But his daughter was almost raped…”

“Yes, and he could have beaten Johnny to death at the scene, like he almost did, and that would have been justifiable, but he would never have tracked him down and shot him to death in cold blood… never…. Someone else did that.” Steve paused for a beat. “And you know who that was, don’t you, Doris?”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. 

“I have to go,” she said quickly, almost under her breath, and turned towards the door.

“You know, don’t you, Doris?” Steve repeated, louder this time and she stopped. “That’s why you asked me to come here, because you can’t let this… this miscarriage of justice continue.” He paused to let his words sink in. “You know. I know you do.” He took a step towards her. “You can’t let my friend take the fall. Not when you know who really did it.”

She looked over her shoulder in his direction, even though she couldn’t see him. “Are you coming to the diner for breakfast tomorrow?”

Startled, he stammered, “I, ah… ah, yeah, sure…”

“Be there at 8.” She opened the wooden door and within seconds she was gone, leaving the door open behind her.

He stood there for several long seconds, digesting what had just happened, both buoyed and troubled. So many things had been confirmed in such a short period of time, and yet so many questions had been left unanswered. He still had a lot of work to do to get Mike and Jeannie out of this dilemma, but the light at the end of the tunnel seemed a little brighter now. He just had to continue to tread very lightly and very carefully.

He left the house, closing the screen door quietly after him and picking his way around to the side of the house. It was almost easier to see, his eyes now well adjusted to the dark, and his stride was a little quicker and surer. 

He glanced around when he reached the lane between the houses. The one on the right was still dark, a fact for which he continued to be grateful, and, seeing no one, started for the sidewalk.

He crossed the street and turned the corner, heading towards Main Street. A dog started barking but he no longer cared. He had accomplished what he had set out to do and a sense of calm was beginning to settle over him. He was totally in his element now, in full cop mode, relying on his instinct and training, and things were starting to unfold before him.

He turned in the direction of the motel when he reached Main, tossing a melancholy glance over his shoulder in the direction of the police station. He so wanted to be with Mike right now and pore over everything he had uncovered in his short meeting with Doris, to analyze it with him the way they always did, to bounce ideas and theories off each other. But Hogan wouldn’t allow it, he knew; it was too late in the day.

He sighed. He knew Mike was worried, and now that he had to be at the diner so early in the morning. it would be even longer before he could reassure his partner that everything had gone off without a hitch.

His heart still racing, this time with excitement instead of dread, he tried to increase his pace but he was tired. It had been an extremely long and trying day, and his feet were tired. The prospect of stretching out on the queen-sized bed was very enticing, even though he knew the chances of getting a good nights sleep were slim. It was going to be hard to turn his mind off tonight, he knew.

# # # # #

The motel office was dark, the parking lot empty except for the Porsche. Keys in hand, he gave it a quick once-over as he approached, looking for any sign of tampering; there was none. He opened the passenger side door and dropped onto the seat, then unlocked the glove compartment. With a relieved sigh, he removed the .38 then paused, thinking. Then, with a short sharp nod to himself, he picked up the badge and I.D., slipped everything into his jacket pocket, and locked the car.

He looked down the row to the soft glow behind the curtains in Jeannie’s room then, with a heavy sigh, unlocked the door of his room.

# # # # #

It was another bright, crisp, sunny morning. He had managed to get a few hours sleep, eventually falling into an exhausted slumber. He had set the alarm on the clock/radio beside the bed as well as the one on his watch, not wanting to miss his appointment at the diner. 

He grabbed a quick shower, more to wake himself up than anything else, then, badge and I.D. in his pants pocket and .38 in its holster clipped to the back of his belt so it wouldn’t be seen under his jacket, he left the motel, throwing another sad glance towards Jeannie’s room as he headed out towards whatever the day was going to bring.

Doris was standing near the order window at the back of the almost empty diner when he entered and their eyes briefly met. He headed for the same booth he’d occupied the day before, knowing it was where she expected him to go.

As he slid into the booth, he could see her circle the counter with a coffee pot in hand. He pushed the coffee cup that was already on the table close to the edge as she approached. She smiled professionally as she started to pour. “Good morning, sir. Would you like to see a menu?”

Taking his cue, knowing immediately that they were putting on a show, he shook his head slightly. “No, that’s okay, I know what I want. I’ll have bacon with one egg, sunny side up, and a side of whole wheat toast, please.” 

She finished pouring the coffee, setting a couple of small plastic milk containers on the table, and nodded. “All righty, I’ll be back with that as soon as I can.” Flashing another smile, she returned to the order window and he heard her talking to the cook.

A few minutes later, she arrived with the loaded plate and set it down in front of him with another smile, then headed to a table of new arrivals. Frowning, slightly confused, he broke the skin on the yolk, tore a slice of toast in half and dipped it, surreptitiously keeping an eye on Doris as he polished off the tasty breakfast. Other than to ask him about his meal and offer to top up his coffee, she made no attempt to interact with him.

He was beginning to suspect he would receive another note with his bill. He wasn’t disappointed.

He was halfway down the block before he took the chance and unfolded the small piece of paper. ‘Gary’s garage - now”, it read. 

Stuffing the note back in his pocket, he continued in the direction he was already heading, unable to lose the frown that seemed to be becoming a permanent feature. He pulled the dark glasses out of his inner jacket pocket and slipped them on.

The garage was open, a car being filled at the pumps, as he stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the pavement towards the open door. Gary was behind the counter and looked up with a friendly grin when Steve stepped over the threshold. “That Porsche of yours still not running?” he asked with a chuckle as the younger man approached the counter.

Steve shook his head. “Nope, still not running.”

“Well,” Gary continued pleasantly, picking up a rag from the counter and wiping his hands as the man whose car had just been filled walked into the office, wallet in his hand, “your timing couldn’t be better. There’s a fella in my office who knows all about fancy sports cars like yours. Why don’t you tell him what you think your problem is?”

Steve raised his eyebrows; he knew this elaborate explanation was for the benefit of the man with the wallet. “Ah, sure, that would be great.”

Gary nodded quickly, then turned to the customer. “I’ll just be a second,” he smiled then looked at Steve again. “Follow me.” He turned towards the closed office door behind him and Steve circled the counter to follow.

Gary opened the door, ushered Steve ahead of him into the small office then shut the door behind himself. “Wait here,” he ordered, quickly crossing the small, dark, messy and overstuffed office to a door at the back and opened it. A dark-haired young man wearing a black leather jacket and a very worried expression stepped into the room. Without another word, Gary closed the door behind the newcomer, then recrossed the room, brushing past Steve, and exited.

Steve waited as the young man, obviously nervous, jammed his hands into the jacket pockets, looking down and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Clearing his throat nervously, he toed the ground then looked up slightly. “Are you, uh… are you O’Brien?”

Steve nodded. “And you are?”

There was another clearing of the throat, another quick glance up, another fidget. “I’m, ah, I’m Colin… Colin Anderson…” He felt silent again and Steve waited. “Uh, I was… uh… I was in the car with Johnny…. I was the one driving the car…”

His expression unchanging, gritting his teeth in a bid for control, Steve realized this was the man who had facilitated Jeannie’s assault and shot his partner. And more than likely was the man who had killed Johnny Seddon.


	19. Chapter 19

Steve stared at the down-turned head of the young man on the other side of the small office. Colin Anderson continued to shift his weight from foot to foot, his hands in his pockets, taking deep ragged breaths.

“You were driving the Chevelle when Johnny Seddon assaulted my client at Charlie’s?” the San Francisco cop asked when he knew he could keep the anger out of his tone.

“Yes, sir.” Anderson’s voice was almost inaudible. 

“And you were the one who shot her father?”

Anderson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, sir….” He was staring at the floor, almost unable to stop fidgeting.

Steve jammed his own hands in his pants pockets, balling them into fists, trying to separate the outraged friend and partner from the detective who had a job to do. An angry exhale of breath through his nose was the only indication of his frame of mind, but it was not lost on the young man in the room with him.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He could see Anderson close his eyes then a long beat later raise his head. “Because I haven’t been able to eat or sleep since it happened… and I can’t live with the guilt anymore…”

Steve stared at him silently for several long moments then he nodded at the chair behind the large and messy wooden desk. After a confused beat and a furrowed brow, Anderson moved to the chair and sat, slumping, his head still down. There was a metal and naugahyde office chair in front of the desk and Steve pulled it around to the side before he sat. He knew from long experience that proximity was paramount in getting a nervous suspect to open up.

The silence lengthened; even sitting, Anderson couldn’t keep still and, in the quiet, Steve could feel the anxiety, the need to tell his story, building in the troubled young man. He waited until he was sure Anderson was uncomfortably close to his breaking point before he asked quietly, “So you were Johnny Seddon’s best friend?”

Still looking down, Anderson snorted derisively. “Nobody was friends with Johnny.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean nobody… nobody,” he emphasized, “called Johnny a friend. They hung around with him because he bought them drinks and paid for pool games and stuff like that… but they weren’t his friends.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause he wasn’t a nice guy.” Anderson finally stopped fidgeting, slumping a little deeper in the large wooden chair.

“So why did you hang around with him?”

Anderson snorted again, this time a cross between regret and embarrassment. “Because I made a mistake a couple a years ago and he was making me pay for it.”

Steve frowned. “What kind of mistake?”

Anderson bit his bottom lip, his stare unfocussed. “He talked me into helping him rob a couple of hikers in the park… just for the hell of it. We stole their money and their cameras… and he pistol whipped the man… for kicks, he told me afterwards. We weren’t caught… and he held that over my head. He always threatened to go to the police…” He closed his eyes again, his jaw clenching. “I couldn’t do that to my mother… to my family…”

Steve waited a few seconds. “How many young women did Johnny rape?” he asked suddenly and Anderson’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. 

They stared at each other for a long beat before Anderson opened his mouth and sucked in air in a silent gasp. “Five… that I know of…”

The muscles in Steve’s jaw tightened. “And he got away with them all?”

Still staring at him, his face almost stricken, Anderson nodded. 

“Why?”

The troubled young man shook his head slowly and sadly. “Because his grandfather owns the town,” he shrugged helplessly, “and Johnny knew he could get away with it…”

“Did his grandfather know what he was doing?”

Anderson stared, frowning, as if that thought had never occurred to him. Then he shook his head slowly, “I… I don’t know… I never met his grandfather. He’s kind of a… a hermit, I guess.”

“What about Johnny’s parents?”

“His dad took off years ago, when Johnny was just a kid… seven, eight. His mom lives with his grandfather. I’ve met her a couple of times, but we don’t hang out there.”

“Does she know, do you think?”

Anderson nodded with a derisive snort. “Oh, yeah, she knows…”

“Did Johnny live with them?”

Anderson shook his head. “Sometimes. He had a small cabin just outside of town… a party cabin, I guess you could call it. He stayed there from time to time. A lot of people would squat there with him, you know… people that came here in the summer. He would pretend to be the big man in town, you know…”

“Did he have a job?” Anderson shook his head. “Then where did he get his money from?”

The young man chuckled dryly. “Johnny was a momma’s boy… he was a choir boy when he was around her and she always made sure he had as much money as he needed…. He never had a job… he never even worked in one of his grandfather’s stores.” There was a bitterness in the tone that told Steve more than the words ever could.

“So these girls that he… assaulted, were they all local girls?”

Anderson nodded. “He may have been a lot of bad things, but we wasn’t stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

The young dark-haired man snorted and shook his head in derision. “He knew he could get away with it with local girls… ‘cause their families wouldn’t say anything. ‘Cause there aren’t that many jobs in this town, especially in the off-season, and their daddies and mommies livelihoods depended on them keeping their mouths shut.” There was genuine anger in his voice.

“So why did he go after my client? She definitely wasn’t a local.”

Anderson looked away, exhaling loudly. “He, ah, he said he had a… he had a need, if you know what I mean, and he said she looked pretty… and ripe…” He looked apologetic, the words obviously hard to say.

Steve nodded softly, knowing Anderson was watching him peripherally. 

“We’d been drinking that morning, in his cabin… he had more than me but we were both kinda high. We were behind their car when they pulled into Charlie’s and Johnny told me to pull over on the road. They didn’t see us.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We saw the girl go into the office and get the key to the washroom. Johnny got all excited. He’d… he’d attacked another girl in there last year. So when her father went into the office, he told me to drive into the lot… I knew what he was going to do…” He closed his eyes. “Johnny kept a gun under the front seat. He’d threatened me with it before… and I know he would’ve used it. I know he would. There was nothing I could do to stop him…”

Steve swallowed heavily; he knew his hands were starting to shake as he tried to suppress his anger. “Is that the gun you used to shoot the girl’s father?”

Anderson hesitated for a beat then closed his eyes and nodded. “He scared me, the father… Johnny had never been caught before… and this guy, this guy was like a machine, he was beating the shit out of him. All I could see was Johnny getting hit over and over again and the blood… He was going to beat Johnny to death, I knew he was and I had to do something…” He squeezed his eyes closed and inhaled sharply. “I’m glad I didn’t kill him… I didn’t want to kill him, I just wanted him to stop hitting Johnny…” Very slowly tears began to trickle down Anderson’s cheeks.

Steve slumped back in the chair slightly, watching as Anderson dealt with his inner demons. After several long seconds, he asked quietly, “What happened next?”

Anderson opened his eyes and palmed the tears from his face, sniffling. “Johnny got away… he crawled back to the car and I booted it out of there. He was out of his mind, he was yelling at top of his lungs, how he was going to kill that old man. He took the gun from me and was waving it around. I was scared shitless… We were tearing down the road, back towards the cabin but he screamed at me to stop. He pulled me out from behind the wheel then he turned the car around and we went back to Charlie’s. We waited just around the bend for their car to leave and we followed them. 

“Johnny held back for a bit at first, to like taunt them, you know… then he raced up behind them… they started to go faster and block the road and Johnny was getting madder and madder ‘cause he wanted to get close enough to shoot the old man…” Anderson dragged a ragged breath into his lungs. “Finally he lost it and rammed the back of their car and it spun out of control and into a tree. We stopped, we didn’t know what to do. Nobody was moving in the other car and we thought they were dead. Johnny wanted to get out and put a bullet in the old man’s head but I lied, I told him somebody was coming… another car, and we booked it out of there.”

Anderson stopped and took another deep breath. He was staring at the floor, the silent tears continuing to flow. “He, ah, he drove about a quarter mile then he slowed down… he said he wanted to go back, he wanted to finish the old man off for sure, and he started to turn around again. I couldn’t let him do it…”. He paused, staring into nothing with a ferocious intensity. “He’d put the gun on the seat between us and I just picked it up and shot him in the head.”

Steve didn’t move, he was barely breathing. 

“The car kept moving and it rolled into the ditch… I left the gun on the seat and I got out and started to walk back to town…. I passed the other car… I knew they were both still alive so I just kept walking, I knew somebody would find them…” He sat very still, taking slow deep breaths, staring at nothing.

An uncomfortable silence filled the small dark office as both men wrestled with the stark reality of what they were facing. Eventually Anderson turned his head. 

“Am I going to go to prison?”

Steve felt his heart leap into his throat. He leaned forward slightly. “I don’t know, Colin, I really don’t know… that’s going to be up to a judge and a jury… What you need right now is a really good lawyer.”

Anderson frowned. “Aren’t you a lawyer?”

Steve froze, unable to stop the brief, ironic smile that crossed his lips. “I’m not the man you need, believe me.” He snorted softly. “Listen, ah, I think we need to go see Chief Hogan, tell him what you just told me.”

Anderson sat up quickly, his face suddenly contorted in fear. “No, not Chief Hogan, not him.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause he set this whole thing up, blaming that girl’s father for Johnny’s murder.”

“Why? Why did he set it up? Does he work for Mr. Chisholm?”

Anderson shook his head vigorously. “No, no, you don’t understand. Chief Hogan hates the Chisholms as much as anybody, maybe even more. But he needs to stay the chief to keep everybody safe.”

“What do you mean, to keep everybody safe?”

“Chief Hogan is the only person keeping this town alive. If the Chisholms pull out of town, it’ll die; they’ll take all their businesses and their money with them and the town’ll die. Nobody’ll move here, the town’ll disappear. If old man Chisholm thinks it was somebody from outside that killed Johnny, he won’t blame the town.”

“So Chief Hogan is willing to lie and fake evidence to make it look like my client killed Johnny?”

Closing his eyes, Anderson nodded. “He doesn’t have a choice.”

Steve gritted his teeth. “Neither do I,” he said sharply as he got to his feet, stepped to the other chair and grabbed the younger man’s arm, pulling him to his feet. “We’re going to go see him anyway. I have a couple of surprises up my own sleeve.”

He dragged Anderson towards the back door and opened it. He stopped short, staring into the barrel of a .38.

“Just where to you think you’re going?” Chief Hogan growled.


	20. Chapter 20

Steve’s eyes travelled slowly from the barrel of the .38 to the cold grey eyes above it with an outward calm that belied his pounding heart. Releasing his grip on Anderson’s elbow, he took a step back into the office; Hogan followed, keeping the .38 trained on his chest. 

Anderson’s head was swivelling back and forth between both older men then he took a half-step forward. “This isn’t what it looks like, Uncle Roger,” he said quickly.

Steve’s head snapped in his direction. “Uncle Roger?” he asked incredulously as Anderson stared at the police chief anxiously.

An ironic smile playing across Hogan’s lips, he nodded. “You didn’t answer my question. And it wasn’t rhetorical.” With a wave of his gun, he backed Steve a little further into the room and closed the door behind himself without looking. He tossed a quick glance at his nephew. “Sit down.”

Obediently, Anderson dropped into the chair he had just vacated, leaning forward urgently. “Uncle Roger, it’s not what it looks like. I told him everything. He was taking me to you.”

His brow furrowing, Hogan tore his eyes away from Steve to throw an angry glance at the young man in the chair. “Now why the hell did you do that?”

“Because I’m tired of living like this… I’m tired of covering up for Johnny and I’m glad he’s dead… I’m glad I killed him!” Anderson spat out, his voice cracking as he dropped his head into his hands. A roar like a wounded animal filled the air. “Damn it! I was going to try to talk him in to taking me to the State Police, not to you.”

Hogan frowned at him. “The State Police? Why the State Police?”

Anderson looked up, his expression a combination of anguish and regret. “Johnny was killed outside the town limits… I thought I could keep them from involving you… I’m sorry, Uncle Roger…” He dropped his head again. “Oh god! I just want this to be over… I just want this to be over…” He started to rock back and forth in the chair, his head in his hands.

Steve turned an accusing stare in Hogan’s direction; the police chief looked stunned and, for the first time, unsure. The gun wavered then slowly dropped. 

His shoulders sagging, Hogan looked at Steve silently for a couple of long beats. “Who the hell are you, anyway?” he asked. “‘Cause you’re sure as hell not a lawyer.”

Steve snorted, a smile briefly lighting his features. “Well, you’re right about that.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took his credentials out, flipping the leather case open.

Hogan’s expression didn’t change as he stared at the gold star and photo I.D. He sighed heavily, slipping the .38 back into the holster on his hip. His grey eyes finally made their way back to Steve’s face. “And Stone?”

With an ironic smile, closing the case and putting it back in his pocket, Steve cleared his throat briefly. “He’s my partner. A lieutenant. In Homicide.”

Hogan closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath. “Of course he is,” he snorted wryly as he opened his eyes. He took a step closer to Anderson and, much to Steve’s surprise, laid a gentle hand on the top of his nephew’s downturned head. He sighed heavily, as if a very heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His hand softy ruffling Anderson’s hair, he looked at Steve. “I guess I owe you an explanation,” he said quietly.

“And then some,” the detective intoned evenly, not yet willing to even begin to let the police chief off the hook. There were a lot of questions to be answered, and apologies to be made. And a lot of wrongs that had to be made right.

Hogan ran his other hand over his face; he looked defeated and sad. “I really didn’t want this to happen, you have to believe me, but I was at my wit’s end… all of us were. He was getting worse. His… attacks were escalating, becoming more frequent and more violent…. He needed to be stopped.”

“And you used my partner and his daughter to stop him?”

Hogan stared at him for a long beat, his grey eyes both defiant and troubled. “I was desperate… and your partner almost handed me an excuse to do what I did.”

“By fighting back?” Steve asked, picking up on the thread that Anderson had started.

The chief nodded. “Uhm-humh. Nobody had fought back before. Johnny’d always picked on girls who were alone, girls whose parents he knew would keep their shame to themselves. He took a chance with… with Miss Stone. He made a mistake, and her father was going to make him pay for it.” He looked at his nephew’s still downturned head, ruffling his hair again. "If Colin hadn’t shot your partner, he probably would’ve beaten Johnny to death. And our nightmare would’ve been over.” He looked at Steve again, his expression almost pleading. “He panicked. Colin… he panicked, that’s all.”

Steve nodded softly. “I know.”

Hogan snorted sadly and shook his head in despair, staring at the floor. “Oh god… it all got out of control so fast…” 

# # # # #

Dottie looked up as the outer door opened and an old man approached the counter. She was frowning slightly as she got up from the desk, trying to recognize the face behind the unkempt white beard and bushy eyebrows. Under a high-crowned, wide-brimmed sable fedora, long silver grey hair touched the collar of the well-worn leather coat as the visitor placed both hands on the counter and smiled.

“Good morning, Dottie. How are you today?”

“Just fine, thank you,” she smiled back, still trying to place the face or the voice. 

“I’m here to visit that fella you got in the cell back there,” he stated matter-of-factly, still smiling.

Her own smile wavering, Dottie glanced over her shoulder at the empty bullpen. “Oh, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to do that. The chief is out, you see, and -“

“Now, Dottie,” the old man interrupted, his tone turning hard, the smile turning colder under the narrowing eyes, “I shouldn’t have to tell you what needs to be done, now do I?”

Her hand went to her collar under her chin and she grabbed ineffectively at the material; she knew who he was. She hesitated, swallowing heavily. He continued to stare at her without blinking. Eventually she nodded once, sharply, and stepped to a nearby desk, opening the top drawer and taking out the ring of keys.

His smile retuned. “Thank you, Dottie,” he almost crooned as he moved to the gate in the counter then followed her across the bullpen.

She pushed the door open and held it for him before she almost jogged to the cell door. She took a quick glance into the cell; Mike was sitting sideways on the cot, leaning against the bars with his feet up, his forearms on his upraised knees. He watched as Dottie opened the cell door, let the other man in, relocked it and left the room, all without a word.

The stranger stood just in side the door, staring at Mike without expression. The hairs on the back of the cop’s neck were now at full attention, and he pushed himself away from the bars, slowly lowering his feet to the floor. The other man still didn’t move.

After a very long beat, Mike’s frown softened. “Mr. Chisholm, I presume?”

A cold smile found its way through the unruly beard as Chisholm’s right hand snaked behind his back. “You killed my grandson,” he said flatly as his hand reappeared, his fingers wrapped around the grip of a .45.

# # # # #

Hogan dropped his head, his chest heaving, then looked up into the detective’s eyes. “You’re right, we owe you and your partner and his daughter an explanation, and an apology.” He snorted, a mirthless smile flashing across his chiseled features. “I don’t expect you to… forgive… but I hope maybe you can understand.” He patted the top of Anderson’s head again with what seemed like uncharacteristic compassion.

“All right,” Steve agreed softly, trying to control the anger in his voice, reeling at the trauma Mike and Jeannie had endured through no fault of their own, trauma that was still continuing. “Why don’t we start by getting my partner and his daughter back together?”

The police chief nodded. “You’re right… Look, ah, my car is just out front. Let’s go get her and bring her to the station, and then we can let him out too.”

“Her name’s Jeannie, by the way. And he’s Mike. They’re good people… and they didn’t deserve this.” Steve was staring at Hogan fiercely, not willing to give an inch, not yet. There was still too much he didn’t know before he could totally trust this man, cop or no cop.

Hogan nodded again, 

# # # # #

Staring at the gun in Chisholm’s shaking hand, Mike said calmly, “No, I didn’t.”

“That’s what my daughter told me. Why would she lie to me?”

Choosing to ignore the question, Mike tilted his head to make it seem like he was staring at the old man, but his full attention was on the finger wrapped around the trigger. He swallowed nervously before he replied, “Somebody else killed him, Mr. Chisholm. It wasn’t me.” He hoped by appearing uneasy and using the other man’s name he could calm him down a little. It was the only ammunition he had at the moment. Very slowly, he put both hands, palms down, on the cot, every sense on full alert, knowing the cavalry wouldn’t come racing through the door. He was on his own.

“If it wasn’t you, who was it then?”

Mike shook his head gently. “I don’t know, Mr. Chisholm. My, ah, my lawyer is trying to find out -“

“He was a good boy. You didn’t need to kill him.” Chisholm interrupted, his trembling intensifying, and he took a step closer to the cot.

Mike hesitated for a beat, knowing in an instant he had to change tactics, weighing which direction to steer the conversation, passive or aggressive. He chose aggressive, hoping to rattle the old man enough to distract him, if only momentarily. That was all the opening he would need. “He wasn’t a good boy, Mr. Chisholm. He wasn’t a good boy at all. He was a rapist.” 

The old man reeled back slightly, as if struck. “You’re a liar!” His finger twitched on the trigger and Mike froze. “Johnny was a good boy!”

“You can repeat that as many times as you want but it doesn’t make it true. Johnny was a rapist. He’d raped other girls and he was trying to rape my daughter. If I wanted to kill him, I could have…. but I didn’t!”

Chisholm had been getting angrier and angrier, his entire body starting to shake. The cop was watching him like a hawk, surreptitiously tensing every muscle in his body, waiting for the moment he could make his move. 

He knew he only had one chance.

“You’re a liar!” Chisholm bellowed as he raised the gun and held it out to the full length of his arm, his trigger finger tightening as Mike pushed himself off the cot and lunged at the older man.

# # # # #

Hogan ushered Steve and Anderson out the back door of the garage office. The patrol car was parked near the street. As they approached, they could hear Dottie’s voice over the radio. Hogan reached in through the passenger side window, snagged the mic and pressed the button. “Yeah, Hogan here, Dottie. What’s up?”

“Oh, Chief, thank god. Jake Chisholm’s here. He barged in a few minutes ago and demanded to see Mr. Stone.”

“Did you let him?”

There was a brief pause. “I didn’t have a choice, you know how he is, but I think you should -“ They could hear a muted pop over the channel and she screamed. “Oh my god, that was a shot!” 

Hogan’s head snapped up, meeting Steve’s startled eyes. “Get in the car!” the chief ordered as he tossed the mic onto the seat and raced around to the driver’s door, and Steve and Anderson hurried to get into the back.


	21. Chapter 21

Fine dust from the ceiling rained down on them as they struggled for the gun. Mike had managed to get his left hand under Chisholm’s right wrist and pushed the barrel up before the older man’s finger could squeeze the trigger. He had felt the bullet whiz past his ear before it embedded in the ceiling. 

Mike’s momentum had carried them both towards the cell door where Chisholm slammed backwards into the bars with a grunt, his right forearm, pinned between them, connecting solidly with the detective’s still healing ribs. Mike gasped, grimacing in pain as black spots swam before his eyes. His obvious discomfort wasn’t lost on the old man.

Four hands were wrapped around the .45, Mike trying to keep it pointing upwards, Chisholm fighting to bring it down low enough to get off another shot. They staggered a step or two deeper into the room again, Mike managing despite the pain to keep the barrel pointing at the ceiling, knowing his very life depended on it.

Suddenly Chisholm slipped his right hand off the grip of the gun and, with as much force as he could muster, drove his fist into Mike’s left ribs. Even the tensor bandages couldn’t protect him from the blow and Mike cried out in agony, his body convulsing involuntarily as he struggled to keep his hands on the gun. It was a battle he knew he was quickly losing.

The room spinning, his chest aflame, he slowly collapsed to the floor, powerless as the grip of the gun slipped from his fingers.

# # # # #

The police car slammed to a stop in front of the station and three doors flew open. Hogan tossed a quick glance at Chisholm’s mud-covered red pickup truck as he sprinted the short distance to the door, Steve and Anderson on his heels. 

As they charged into the station, Hogan glanced over his shoulder, pulling his revolver from its holster. “Are you packing?”

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed as he reached behind himself, grabbing his .38 and holding it up for the chief to see. 

“Good. Colin, you stay here!” 

Anderson, who was behind Steve, slid to a stop near the counter.

Hogan looked at Dottie, who was standing in the middle of the bullpen, as they raced past her and she tossed the ring of keys at the chief, who caught them deftly as he and Steve approached the wooden cell room door. He glanced over his shoulder at his secretary again. “Any more shots?”

Dottie shook her head quickly. “I could hear a fight but that stopped too.”

Hogan nodded, his right ear against the door. Steve, his .38, in both hands, pointed at the floor, was at his side, listening. Hogan glanced at him and they both nodded.

“Jake! Jake, it’s Roger Hogan! Jake, can you hear me?!” He paused, but there was no response. “Jake, is anybody hurt?!” He looked at the young detective; there was still no response. He lowered his voice. “You stay here, I’ll go in first. He won’t shoot me.”

Though he didn’t like it, Steve nodded. 

His gun in both hands, Hogan used his right shoulder to push the door open. “I’m coming in, Jake! It’s just me!” He slid along the door then spun into the room. Steve stared at the gradually closing door, his heart pounding, terrified about what he would find on the other side.

# # # # #

In a crouch, his gun swinging back and forth in front of him, Hogan moved slowly closer to the bars of the nearest cell. His trained eyes snapped around the small enclosure, searching for the two men he knew were locked inside. He couldn’t see anyone. Near the cot on the right had been pulled away from the wall, he could see a brown hat on the cell floor but no blood, hoping that meant that the shot Dottie had heard had gone wild.

“Jake!” he called out then paused to listen. He could hear a scuffling sound like a shoe on concrete and his eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. On the other side of the cot he could see the two men on the floor. His legs stretched out in front of him, Chisholm was leaning against the corner of the two cement walls, staring straight ahead; Mike was half-lying, half-sitting on Chisholm’s left side, his head and upper torso against the older man’s chest. 

The detective looked semi-conscious, his eyes half-closed, his face wreathed in pain. Chisholm had wrapped his left arm around the cop’s chest, holding him tightly in place, while he pressed the barrel of the .45 against his right temple.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll put a bullet in his brain,” Chisholm growled as Hogan moved to get into a better position.

The cop froze. “I won’t,” he said softly with an attempt at a smile. “What, ah, what are you doing, Jake?”

“This son-of-a-bitch killed my grandson,” Chisholm spat out, tightening his left arm to emphasize his words. Mike gasped in pain, his body jerking, his face contorting even more, eyes squeezed tight.

“Easy, Jake, easy… easy,” Hogan soothed. “Look, ah, I know you’re mad, Jake, because Johnny’s dead… and I understand that… but I want to talk to you, okay, Jake? Will you listen to me?… Please…?”

There was a tense pause. “I ain’t interested in anything you got to say,” Chisholm began almost softly and Hogan pounced.

“You’re not interested in the truth, Jake?” He waited a beat, letting the words sink in. “That’s not like you, you’ve always been a stickler for the truth. In all the years I’ve known you, Jake, you’re spoken the truth, every time, whether we wanted to hear it or not. That’s why people admire you as much as they do. Are you gonna give all that up now?”

Hogan paused again, and when the silence from the cell lengthened, he knew he had touched a nerve. He exhaled slowly through his open mouth, trying to slow his pounding heart, knowing the next few minutes could mean life or death for the San Francisco homicide lieutenant who’s only crime was taking his daughter on a fishing trip.

# # # # #

Steve was leaning against the door, his right ear pressed to to the burnished wood, trying to hear what was going on on the other side. He could make out Hogan’s muffled voice, and though he couldn’t discern any words, he could tell by the calm and even tone that the police chief was trying to diffuse what he assumed was a very tense situation.

Dottie had drifted closer and Steve glanced up at her. She looked distraught, and he knew she was horrified about what she had inadvertently allowed to unfold. He almost felt sorry for her.

“Is Jake Chisholm Johnny Seddon’s grandfather?” he asked in a whisper and she nodded.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply; he needed to know what was going on on the other side of the heavy wooden door.

# # # # #

Chisholm still hadn’t responded to Hogan’s challenge; the police chief took that to mean he was willing to listen. “So, this is the truth, Jake… and you have my word as a police officer and as your friend… this man did not kill your grandson.”

There was another long pause. “Connie told me he did. Why would she lie to me?”

“Your daughter was mistaken, Jake, she didn’t lie. We all thought he did it… but we were all wrong, Jake… even Connie.” Hogan took a breath, letting his words settle. “Jake, I’m gonna let someone in here with me…” He stopped talking when he saw Chisholm react, trying to push himself further into the corner, his arm tightening around Mike’s chest. The injured lieutenant gasped, reaching up feebly to try to pry the arm away from his body. Chisholm just held tighter and Hogan could see the lieutenant fighting for breath and consciousness.

“Easy, Jake, take it easy… let him go, let him go, just a little bit… just let him go a little bit so he can breathe, okay…” Hogan struggled to get through to the older man. “He’s got broken ribs from the car accident, Jake, he’s in a lot of pain…”

Though Chisholm’s head was down and Hogan couldn’t see his eyes, he could tell his words were sinking in as Chisholm loosened his hold across Mike’s chest and cop slumped, moaning as he drew in breath after painful breath. Hogan dropped his head and inhaled deeply, grateful for the tiny victory.

“Jake, this man’s name is Mike Stone and he’s a detective from San Francisco. He was down here on vacation, a fishing trip with his daughter. Her name is Jeannie.”

Though Chisholm wasn’t moving or responding, Hogan could feel he was listening. “He has a partner, a partner who was very worried when Mike and his daughter didn’t come home. He’s here, the partner… and I’m gonna let him in so he can talk to you too, okay?”

When there was no word or movement from Chisholm, Hogan nodded. “Okay, Jake, I’m gonna let him in now.” Still in a crouch, his legs aching from the painful position, Hogan began to slowly duck walk towards the door, keeping his eyes on Chisholm. When he got close enough, he reached up for the handle and pulled it open.

On the other side, Steve watched silently as the door slowly opened. He couldn’t see anyone at first, then Hogan leaned back into his line of sight, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “Put your gun away… follow my lead…” he whispered, holding the door open.

Steve quickly stuffed his .38 in the holster on the back of his belt and, crouching down, stepped through the door. Hogan let it go and, as it closed, both police officers moved closer to the bars, dropping to their knees, the police chief keeping his .38 loosely trained towards the back of the cell.

Following Hogan’s stare, Steve’s eyes fell on the tableau in the far corner and he soundlessly caught his breath. Chisholm had sat up a little straighter, tightening his grip and pushing the barrel of the gun against Mike’s head even harder. Mike wasn’t moving but Steve could tell from his face that he was in a lot of pain. Hogan glanced at him encouragingly.

“Jake? Jake, this is Steve. He’s Mike’s partner. He’s here to take Mike and his daughter back home to San Francisco. And, ah, and we gotta help him do that, okay?”

There was a tense silence.

“Hello, Mr. Chisholm,” Steve said softly, formally, with a slight nod.

“He killed my grandson,” Chisholm barked angrily and Steve froze, shooting a worried glance at Hogan. But the police chief almost smiled and threw a quick, reassuring look in the younger cop’s direction. 

“I already told you, Jake, somebody else killed Johnny… not Mike.”

“Who killed him then? If you know, then tell me. Who killed him?”

Hogan swallowed, stalling for a brief second. “Well, we’re working on that, Jake, we don’t rightly know yet, but we’re getting close… but we know for sure it wasn’t Mike here. We are absolutely sure of that. You gotta believe me.”

“Then why is he in here? Why did you arrest him?”

“Like I told you before, Jake, we made a mistake… a horrible mistake. We never should’ve done that.”

Chisholm seemed to sag, the barrel of the gun against Mike’s head pulled away slightly. From across the length of the cell, he stared at Hogan as if trying to decide if he should believe him or not. The cops waited, both of them unnaturally still, barely breathing.

Suddenly Chisholm shifted, his arm tightening around Mike’s chest and the gun barrel thrust against Mike’s temple with enough force that his head rocked sharply. Both cops froze as Mike cried out, clawing ineffectually at the arm around his chest, and the old man roared, “He said the boy was a rapist! A goddam rapist! What do you have to say about that, Hogan?! Hunh?!

Even from across the cell, both Steve and Hogan could see Chisholm’s finger tighten around the trigger.


	22. Chapter 22

“Jake!” Hogan bellowed, lunging closer to the bars as he raised his gun. From the corner of his eye he could see Steve reach behind himself and suddenly there were two police specials thrust between the bars, aimed at Chisholm’s head. “Jake… put the gun down, Jake.” Hogan lowered the decibel level of his voice but not the force of his words. “If you pull that trigger, you’re killing an innocent man, Jake. Do you want that?”

They could see the sudden confusion in the old man’s eyes.

“You don’t want to kill an innocent man, Jake. You want us to catch the man who killed your grandson… and Mike here, Mike didn’t do it.” Hogan swallowed, taking a breath, knowing his words were very slowly getting through to the distraught grandfather. “Let him go, Jake… let him go so we can reunite him with his daughter and his partner, and he can go home…. He doesn’t deserve what you want to do to him, Jake… he didn’t kill Johnny…”

Steve had barely blinked, staring over the top of his .38 trained on Chisholm’s head. If he had to, any shot he was going to take would be a kill shot, no question about it. His eyes flicked momentarily to his partner’s face; Mike had given up fighting against the arm wrapped around him, his eyes were closed, his head against Chisholm’s chest. Steve couldn’t tell if he was conscious or not.

“Come on, Jake, you don’t want it to end like this, do you? If you pull that trigger, it’ll be the last thing you ever do, you know that, right? You don’t want that… and Steve and I don’t want that either…. Put the gun down, Jake… for all of us…” Hogan paused for a beat. “Please… for all of us… put the gun down…”

Chisholm, who hadn’t taken his cold hard stare off Hogan’s face, suddenly blinked quickly several time and Steve could hear Hogan’s nearly inaudible intake of breath. Then, time seeming to stand still as everything moved in slow motion, the barrel of the gun started to move away from the side of Mike’s head, Chisholm’s finger slid off the trigger and he almost gently laid the black .45 on the concrete floor beside him.

With a quick glance at Steve, who knew exactly what he was being asked to do, Hogan jumped to his feet and hurried to the cell door, quickly finding the key he needed and opening the lock. He crossed the cell in three long strides and, not taking the time to bend over, kicked the gun away, keeping his .38 trained on Chisholm, who was sitting quietly, staring forward vacantly.

Within seconds, Steve was in the cell, slipping his own gun back into its holster as he knelt beside his partner, who still hadn’t moved. “Mike… Mike…” he was whispering hopefully as he reached out to gently and carefully lift his injured partner off Chisholm. His eyes still squeezed shut, Mike moaned in pain as Steve lowered him onto his back on the cold floor.

Hogan reached down and grabbed Chisholm’s arm, pulling the old man to his feet. Trying to control his anger, the police chief stared into the weathered and hirsute face, his jaw tightening in suppressed anger and his eyes ablaze. He turned Chisholm roughly and stepped behind him, pulling the right arm behind his back. “Jacob Chisholm, you’re under arrest for kidnapping and brandishing a weapon, to start with.” He snapped a handcuff around Chisholm’s wrist then reached for his left arm. The old man didn’t resist, continuing to stare straight ahead without expression.

As Hogan led Chisholm away, stopping briefly to pick up the hat as he recited the Miranda warning, Steve leaned over his partner. “Mike, can you hear me?”

Eyes still closed, the older man nodded slowly. He opened his mouth, breathing heavily. “Yeah… yeah…” They were more like gasps than words.

Relaxing slightly, Steve laid a gentle palm on his partner’s forehead. Mike opened his eyes. Staring up at his young friend, he breathed, “I thought he was going to kill me…”

Steve snorted softly, trying to smile. “Me too.”

Very slowly, Mike’s right hand slid across his chest to cover his left ribs. He grimaced in pain.

“Did he hurt you?”

Mike caught a held breath then exhaled quickly. “I’m not sure… my ribs sure hurt a lot more now than they did before.” He snorted angrily. “Damn it…”

“Do you think you can get up? I think we should get you back to the cot and I’ll rewrap you… see if that helps. What do you think?”

Mike looked at him with a small grateful smile. “Let’s give it a try,” he snorted with a soft chuckle then winced again.

Steve leaned closer, sliding his right arm under his partner’s back as Mike began to sit up, holding his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hogan propelling Chisholm, hands cuffed behind him, into the other cell then locking the door.

His eyes closed and jaw set, Mike sat up then slowly climbed to his feet with Steve’s help. He waited for a beat as Steve shoved the cot back against the wall then shuffled to it slowly and sat with a gasp of pain and a relieved exhale when he was finally down. Steve sat beside him and began to undo his shirt. 

His eyes closed and his head slightly raised, his arms at his sides, Mike let his young partner do what needed to be done.

“How’s he doing?” Hogan asked as he suddenly appeared in front of them, staring at Mike anxiously. 

The older detective opened his eyes slightly. “He’s doing fine, thanks for asking,” he almost spat out. 

Steve’s eyes flashed to his partner’s face and a smile he couldn’t restrain briefly flashed across his face. Hogan’s head had snapped back slightly, obviously not anticipating Mike’s bitter response, and, flustered, he looked at Steve. “Ah, do you need a hand?”

Trying not to smile, Steve shook his head. “I got this.”

“Okay…” Hogan began slowly. “Okay, ah, so, ah, so I’ll go ahead and do what we were gonna do before, ah, before this…” he stammered uncharacteristically, gesturing vaguely towards the corner of the cell where the drama had just played out.

Steve nodded. “Good.” He had removed Mike’s shirt and was starting to undo the tensor bandages.

Hogan hesitated for a moment then, realizing he had been summarily dismissed, turned and left the cell.

After a silent beat, Mike asked quietly. “What was that all about?”

Steve snorted softly. “You have no idea what’s happened since last night…. And I’ll tell you all about it shortly, don’t worry. But all you need to know right now is, it’s all over, Mike.”

The older man slowly turned his head, his expression confused but heartbreakingly hopeful. “What?”

Steve smiled, nodding. “It’s over.” He looked down, removing the second tensor bandage and beginning to roll them up. “How do your ribs feel?”

Mike was still trying to process what he had just heard. “What?” he asked softly.

The younger man looked at him with an amused chuckle. “I said how do your ribs feel?”

“Oh, ah…” Mike stammered, raising his left hand to gingerly touch his chest, “sore…”

“Worse than before?”

The older man nodded, frowning, in obvious discomfort. “If they were just… bent before, they may be broken now.”

Steve sighed heavily, his stare unfocussed. He was obviously trying to work something out. Suddenly he bent over and pulled the duffle bag out from under the cot and started to rifle through it. He sat up again with a t-shirt in his hand.

“You want me to put that on?”

Shaking his head, Steve put the t-shirt on his lap then folded it length-wise four time so it was about six inches wide. “We’re going to use this as a… a dressing, I guess you could call it. To give a little most cushioning to the bandages.” He placed it against his partner’s still visibly bruised rib cage. “Hold that in place, will ya.”

Mike raised his right hand and held the folded tee against his side as Steve started to wrap the bandages around his chest and over his left shoulder again. A quick look at the bullet wound showed it was healing nicely, which was a relief for them both.

“So, ah, what do you mean it’s over?” Mike asked again as Steve continued his ministrations.

The younger man chuckled. “I mean as soon as we sort a few things out, and make a few decisions, and get a lot more answers, we can go home.”

“Okay…” Mike said slowly. “I’ve, ah, I’ve got a lot of questions, and I need a lot of answers… like why the hell I was framed.” He turned his head slightly to look at his partner. “Do you know why?”

With a grim smile, Steve nodded. “Umh-humh…”

“And...?”

“And I think there’s going to have to be a lot of understanding and forgiving… from all sides…”

With a worried frown, Mike looked away, not sure he liked the sound of what he had just been told.

# # # # #

“How does it feel?” Steve asked as Mike finished doing up the buttons on his shirt. They were still sitting on the cot.

Mike straightened slightly, taking a deep breath. He ran his right hand over his left ribcage and bobbed his head. “Not bad. I’ll live.” He glared into the other cell. “No thanks to him.”

Still handcuffed, sitting facing them on the far cot, Chisholm hadn’t made a sound. 

With a soft chuckle, Steve reached around behind his partner and grabbed the two pillows on the far end of the cot to stuff them against the bars behind the older man. “You know,” he said quietly, humour in his voice and a smug smile on his lips, “you did just get your ass kicked by a ninety-year-old man…” He felt Mike stiffen.

“He’s not ninety-years-old,” Mike retorted with feigned indignation, gratefully rising to the bait, knowing they both needed the healing balm of a moment of levity.

“Eighty then,” the younger man conceded as he straightened up. “Here,” he put a hand on his partner’s right shoulder, pushing him back gently against the pillows.

Holding his breath until he’d settled against the soft backrest, his eyes closed, Mike smiled slightly. “Well, he wasn’t laboring under a handicap,” he continued the badinage.

“So that’s your excuse, hunh?” the younger man chuckled. He turned to lean against the bars beside his partner, their shoulders touching. “Let’s just take a break and sit here for a bit, okay?” he whispered, and Mike nodded softly.

They fell into a companionable silence.

A few minutes later the outer door opened and one of the deputies they hadn’t officially met yet strode quickly into the room and up to the door of the other cell. With practiced ease, he snapped open the lock, pocketing the keys as he crossed to the cot. He nodded with a crisp “Would you come with me, please, sir”, then leaned forward slightly to grasp Chisholm’s right elbow and assist the old man to his feet. As the shabbily-dressed millionaire tried to pull away, the deputy propelled him out of the cell and they disappeared into the station proper.

Steve had watched the byplay with interest, fully aware of what was going on. He glanced at Mike, who hadn’t moved, his eyes still closed. The older man was taking deep long breaths; he wasn’t asleep but he was trying to get his shattered equilibrium back, Steve knew.

He looked over when he heard the wooden door opened again. Hogan stepped into the room, holding the door open and pausing to glance over his shoulder. Then, slowly, Jeannie followed. With a broad smile, the police chief crossed to the open door of the nearest cell and stopped, his arms wide as if ushering her inside. She nodded to him in thanks as she approached, her gaze sliding towards the cot.

As she stepped into the entrance, Steve nudged his partner and Mike’s eyes opened slowly. He stared straight ahead then lifted his head from the pillows and turned slowly towards the cell door. The blue eyes widened as he recognized his daughter. 

“Daddy…”


	23. Chapter 23

Smiling, Steve got to his feet and turned to the older man, gently taking his elbow and helping him up. Mike tried his best not to wince, attempting a smile through trembling lips when he caught his balance and Steve let go of his arm. 

His smile growing wider, Steve crossed the cell towards the door, stopping briefly to gently throw an arm around Jeannie’s shoulders and pull her into a quick hug, kissing her hair, before he joined Hogan and they moved to the wooden door. Hogan pulled it open and exited; Steve grabbed the door and held it as he looked back into the cell.

Biting her lips, trying to hold back tears, Jeannie crossed to her father, who was beaming at her, waiting with his arms out as far as he was capable. “Easy, easy,” he chuckled softly as she wrapped her arms around him, knowing the bulky bandages she could see under his shirt were worrying her. 

Her hands clutching the back of his shirt, she let the sobs surface as the tears started to flow. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed over and over as he stroked her hair, closing his eyes as he held her head to his chest.

Swallowing heavily, his vision blurring, Steve stepped through the door, letting it close silently behind him, allowing father and daughter their much needed and long overdue privacy. Sighing heavily, he moved deeper into the bullpen, running his hands over his face. He looked at his watch. It was just after 10; it had been a long and exhausting day already, and it had literally just begun. 

He looked up, taking in the room. Hogan was standing with Dottie at his office door, deep in quiet conversation. Chisholm was sitting, his hands now cuffed in front of him, in a large wooden armchair near the back wall, the deputy doing paperwork, and keeping a close eye on their newest detainee, at a nearby desk. Colin Anderson was slumped in a chair at a desk near the door, staring at his hands clasped in his lap.

As Steve watched, Dottie nodded quickly and moved to her own desk, sitting and picked up the phone. Hogan glanced in the San Francisco cop’s direction and nodded, in effect summoning him over. Steve, still not quite sure how he should feel about the local chief but not disputing the anger that was boiling just beneath the surface, crossed the floor.

Hogan looked contrite, which the young detective found surprisingly refreshing; but, then again, his department had almost allowed his partner to be assassinated by a disgruntled family member of the victim, the latest in a long string of abuses. “Ah, listen, ah… Steve, is it?” the chief began with an almost embarrassed smile.

The SF cop nodded, his expression unreadable. He wanted to see which way this was going to go before he tipped his hand as to how he was reacting to the events that had just transpired.

Hogan nodded quickly. “Thanks. Ah, Steve, there’s obviously a lot we have to… discuss in the next couple of hours… and a lot of things to set right…” He paused as if waiting for a confirmation that didn’t come. His fluster growing, he continued, “So, ah, well, you know your partner better than anybody… obviously…” He shrugged slightly with a snort. “Anyway, ah, you let me know when you think he’s ready and, ah, and we’ll find a comfortable place… for him… and we’ll… we’ll do what needs to be done. How does that sound?”

Steve started to nod slowly, keeping his expression unreadable. “I agree,” he began slowly, “but he needs some time with his daughter right now -“

“Of course,” Hogan interjected quickly, “of course…”

“- and Jeannie should be included in the meeting as well. She’s as much a part of all this as her father is, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes… yes, of course she is. She deserves to know the truth… and she deserves justice. I wouldn’t have it any other way…. Believe me.”

Hogan sounded sincere. And after a few seconds of tense silence, Steve nodded. “I do,” he said quietly.

The chief smiled grimly. “Thank you.” He swallowed almost nervously. “Listen, ah, what I can I do for you right now?”

Knowing he finally had the upper hand, Steve nodded at the desk they were standing beside. “I would like a desk, some privacy and a phone.”

Hogan stared at him evenly for a long moment then nodded curtly. “Of course.” He shot a glance over his shoulder. “There’s an empty office right there. It’s all yours.”

With a crisp and dismissive, “Thank you,” Steve brushed past still reeling police chief.

# # # # #

He waited for her sobs to subside then pushed her away slightly so he could look down at her face. His own cheeks wet with relieved tears, he tenderly ran the tips of his right fingers over the stitches in her forehead. “Did you get that in the accident?”

She nodded, not sure she could trust the strength of her voice just yet. She opened her mouth and sucked in a ragged breath, raising both hands to place them lightly on his chest, feeling the tensor bandages through his shirt. “Are you all right?”

Smiling reassuringly, his face lit up as he nodded. “Oh sure. I just cracked a couple of ribs, that’s all. Hurts like hell but I’m okay.”

“What about where they shot you?”

“That?” he chuckled, raising his left shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s almost completely healed already.”

“They took the bullet out?”

“Umh-humh. They did a pretty good job too.” He nodded behind himself. “Come on, let’s sit down.

Arm in arm, they crossed the short distance to the cot. She sat first, on his right, and he lowered himself carefully, trying not to show too much discomfort. She snuggled close to him, and he wrapped his arm around her, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “Did they treat you all right?” he asked softly and felt her nod. “Tell me about it.”

# # # # #

“Captain Devitt,” came the familiar, and most welcome, voice on the other end of the line and Steve exhaled loudly.

“Roy, it’s Steve -“

“Steve! Thank god! Where the hell are you? Did you find Mike and Jeannie? Have you met up with Norm and -?”

“Whoa, whoa, Roy, whoa… one question at a time. Yes, I did find Mike and Jeannie, and we’re still down here in Eldred -“

“Eldred?! Dammit, I sent them to Edward first -“

“Sent who?”

“Norm and Dan. You haven’t hooked up with them yet?”

“No, not yet. When did they leave?”

“Middle of the night. They should’ve figured out Edward was a dead end by now and should be heading your way soon.”

“Good, ‘cause I can use their help.”

The captain seemed to take a breath and slow down. “So what the hell’s going on down there? Are Mike and Jeannie okay?”

“Ah, well, ah, relatively speaking, I guess…”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” The concern had definitely returned to the voice on the other end of the line.

“Ah, listen, Roy, this is gonna take awhile, but I want you to know what we’re up against and what help I’m gonna need from you, okay?”

“Ah, yeah… sure…. What do you need?”

# # # # # 

“So, what’s happening?” Jeannie asked, sounding honestly confused. “Why are they letting us finally be together? Do you know?”

“Well,” Mike began with his own slightly confused smile, “I don’t have any of the details yet but, if what Steve told me just a little while ago is true, then all this… this nightmare is over and we can go home soon.”

Jeannie’s brow furrowed. “It is?” She didn’t sound convinced.

Her father nodded. “Umh-humh. At least, if you want to believe Steve… and I do,” he chuckled with a warm smile.

She smiled too. “So do I.”

“Good,” he laughed, pulling her closer, ignoring the discomfort in his chest, knowing it was worth it.

She melted into him in silence for several long seconds, both of them revelling in the calm and the closeness then she raised her head again. “Um, Mike, how are we going to get home?”

“What do you mean?”

“Our car is probably a write-off, isn’t it? And we can’t all fit in the Porsche, which Steve said isn’t running anyway… right?”

She heard her father’s soft harrumph and she knew without looking he was staring into nothing and frowning. “Good point. What do you think, we hitchhike?”

“What?!” she blurted out, pushing away from him slightly to look into his face, freezing and scowling when she saw his amused and anticipatory expression. “Oh you…” she growled good-naturedly as she started to tickle him, an almost reflexive action for her under normal circumstances. He laughed, trying playfully to push her away then gasped in pain, grimacing and reaching for his injured ribs and she froze. “Oh, god, Daddy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” She threw her arms around him and held him gently as they waited for the pain to subside.

His breaths evened out and he opened his eyes, managing a smile. “I’m okay,” he assured her. “Come here,” he said softly, putting his right arm around her and pulling her close again. Contrite, she leaned carefully into him. He rubbed her upper arm affectionately. “You know what I regret the most? That we didn’t get to bring those big fish home with us.”

# # # # #

The wooden door opened slowly and Steve stepped quietly into the room. He let the door close softly as he moved closer to the bars. He could see father and daughter sitting side by side on the cot, arms around each other, her head on his shoulder and their eyes closed. He smiled warmly to himself.

As if sensing his presence, Mike opened his eyes and they slid in his partner’s direction. Steve took that as an invitation and slipped quietly through the door. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked the older man as he approached the pair. Jeannie opened her eyes and smiled at him, still leaning against her father as if not wanting to break the bond.

Mike looked down at his daughter’s head on his shoulder and smiled. “Great.” He squeezed her gently then looked up again. “So, what’s going on?”

“Well, when you two feel up to it, Chief Hogan wants to have a… a meeting with all of us,” he included Jeannie in a glance, “to explain himself… and the town, I guess.” Steve’s jaw clenched, unable to disguise his anger at what they had all been put through.

Mike was nodding slowly. “So, ah, so when does he want to do that?”

Steve smiled ironically. “At your convenience,” he chuckled dryly and Mike snorted.

“That’s a switch,” the older man growled, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes in discomfort, glanced down at Jeannie, who was looking up at him, then met Steve’s eyes again. “Tell him we’re not ready yet. Tell him I’ll let him know when we are.”

Steve smiled. “My pleasure. Oh, ah, I finally found a phone to use. One that was right here in the office, surprise surprise,” he chuckled mirthlessly and Mike snorted, shaking his head in derision, “and I finally got through to Roy.”

“Good. I bet he was happy to hear from you.”

“And then some,” Steve chuckled. “I told him what was going on down here - broad strokes, of course, or I would’ve been on the phone with him till tomorrow - and he said Norm and Dan are on their way -“

“Great,” Mike interrupted in relief.

“- and I told him what I wanted him to do for us from up there.”

The older man’s brow furrowed. “And what would that be?”

Steve looked from Mike to Jeannie and back again. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m not about to let anybody off the hook for what they did to you these last few days. So I’ve asked Roy to make a few calls.” He smiled warmly. “We won’t be doing this alone… not anymore.”


	24. Chapter 24

Mike was staring at his partner with a proud and knowing smile and he nodded softly. “Good.” He sighed heavily and glanced down at his daughter. “You know what I’d like right now,” he said to neither of them in particular running his left hand over the two-week-old stubble on his chin, and the others shrugged. “I’d like to get out of here and go somewhere and take a long hot shower, then have a nice big lunch… and then we’ll think about when we want to sit down with Hogan and hear what his explanation for all this is.” He looked down at Jeannie again, raising his eyebrows and giving her a quick squeeze. “What do you think?”

She smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Steve laughed softly. “So do I. Listen, ah, I still have a motel room, with a shower. And I know the perfect place for lunch.” He turned towards the door. “I’ll tell Hogan.” There was a touch of glee in his tone that was unmistakable; he obviously enjoyed having the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Mike tightened his arm around his daughter, laying the back of his head against the pillow again. She leaned against his shoulder, her arm loosely across his chest.

“Helluva fishing trip, hunh?” he whispered with a sad sigh, and he felt her nod.

# # # # #

Steve opened the door and started to lead the way across the bullpen. Mike, his arm lovingly around his daughter’s shoulders, followed slowly, staring straight ahead, determined not to show any discomfort. Peripherally, he could see Hogan standing at his office door, watching silently, as they made their way towards the gate in the counter. The room was silent.

As they approached the counter, he noticed a young man sitting at a desk near the front and saw Steve toss a quick nod in his direction as he opened the gate and waited for the others. 

The young man didn’t nod back but his eyes widened in shock and what seemed like fear when they settled on Mike and Jeannie. Mike stared back as he passed the desk, and a soft, knowing smile briefly crossed his features. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was the young man who had shot him, and most likely the person who had killed Johnny Seddon.

# # # # #

Mike looked at himself in the small mirror over the sink. He ran his fingers gently over the wound in his shoulder. It was almost completely healed; only the stitches, which needed to be removed soon, were visible now.

He turned slightly, raising himself up as much as he could to see the left side of his chest. The large dark purple bruise, that had been slowly disappearing, was an angry red once again, the result of Chisholm’s death grip no doubt. He pressed his fingers against his ribs, flinching. 

Keeping his left arm close to his side, he turned the shower on and got in. It felt good to feel the warm water cascading over his battered body, and he stood perfectly still with his eyes closed, enjoying the sensation. 

It had been a long time since he had felt so vulnerable, and he didn’t like it one bit.

# # # # #

Steve was standing in the open motel door, leaning against the frame, staring at the Porsche. Jeannie joined him. “So have you decided what you want to do?” She gestured at the car with her chin.

He snorted dryly. “Well, no, not really… I definitely don’t want to get it towed anywhere. But I’m beginning to think that maybe… just maybe… Hogan’s responsible for this too.” He looked at her and smiled. “And I have a feeling that he knows someone here in town that can fix it too.”

She chuckled. “I bet you’re right.” She paused, listening. “I just heard the shower go off.”

Steve took a step back from the door. “I’ll give him a minute to towel off,” he chuckled as he moved deeper into the room.

# # # # #

They were sitting in the booth in the back, perusing the menus that had been preset on the table. The diner was busier than Steve had seen it before; the lunch-hour ‘rush’ was obviously still on. The waitress approached the table, greeting Mike and Jeannie, who she saw first, with a wide smile.

“Have you decided what you want?” she asked, her eyes sliding to the third person at the table. She froze.

Steve grinned. “Hi, Doris.”

Flustered, she smiled back. “Um, Mr. O’Brien, I, ah, I wasn’t expecting to see you here…”

The young man smiled reassuringly. “It’s not O’Brien, Doris. My real name is Keller, Steve Keller, and I’m a cop from San Francisco.” When she frowned in confusion, he pointed across the table. Doris looked at Mike and Jeannie. “And these are my, uh, my ‘clients’. Mike is actually my partner.”

The older man smiled warmly and extended his right hand. When she took it hesitantly, his smile got even wider. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doris. I, ah, I hear you’re responsible for our release.”

“Oh, I don’t think so…” she began tentatively, shaking her head and mumbling at the same time as the Mike pumped her hand gently. Her eyes fell on the bandages she could see under his shirt and her frown got deeper. 

“And this is his daughter Jeannie,” Steve continued the introductions, and the beautiful young woman, grinning, reached across her father to shake the waitress’s hand as well.

“Thank you so much,” Jeannie said, “you have no idea.”

Doris seemed to finally find her voice and her own smile turned sadly understanding. “Unfortunately, I do, honey, I do.” When all three sitting at the table frowned, she straightened up, a professional smile brightening her face, back in waitress mode. “So, have you made up your minds?”

Mike stared at her sympathetically for a quick beat then raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Ah, what would you recommend for someone who really needs something that’ll stick to his ribs?”

Doris looked at him gratefully, knowing he understood her discomfort at the situation, and she reached out to point at something on the menu in his hand. “Well, a lot of people don’t believe me, but I think we make the best meat loaf in the state.”

Mike looked up at her and chuckled. “Well, that sounds perfect.” He dropped the menu on the table with a flourish. “Meat loaf for me, please.”

Doris looked expectantly at the younger two. With an expectant look at Jeannie, Steve pushed his own menu away, smiling. “Then make that two.”

“Three,” Jeannie added with a laugh and, beaming, Doris picked up the discarded menus.

“Good choice. And something to drink?”

# # # # #

Leaving Doris a very large tip, and thanking her discreetly once more, they left the diner to return to the nearby motel. Father and daughter were walking slowly, arm in arm, both just grateful to be outside in the fresh air. 

Leading the way as they turned the corner from the sidewalk into the motel parking lot, Steve pulled up abruptly. The waiting cop car was still in front of the motel office, but the large and imposing tow truck from Gary’s Garage was now parked behind the Porsche. “Hey!” Steve yelled, sprinting towards his car.

A tall, thin man got to his feet on the other side of the Porsche, wiping the grit from his hands on his coveralls as he looked in the direction of the agitated shout. Breaking into a smile, he raised both hands in mock surrender. 

“What are you doing?” Steve demanded, his worried eyes raking over his car.

“Hey, man, this is some sweet ride you got here,” the stranger said with a chuckle, looking down at the sports car admiringly.

“Thank you but what are you doing to it?”

The mechanic’s laugh got a little louder and he reached over the trunk, extending right hand. “I’m, ah, I’m Dennis.”

Steve had reached for the proffered hand then froze. “Dennis? Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in Hawaii with your wife?”

Dennis continued to chuckle. “Yeah, well, we don’t go to the islands till next month.” He shook Steve’s hand quickly then nodded down at the car. “She’ll, ah, she’ll be running smooth as silk now, don’t worry.”

Steve frowned. “You fixed it?”

Dennis grinned. “There was nothing to fix. I’d just disconnected a couple of wires. So I just… connected them again.” He shrugged.

His hands on his hips, Steve stared at the car. He could feel Mike and Jeannie standing behind him and glanced over his shoulder. 

“Try it,” Mike encouraged and Jeannie nodded.

Fishing into his pocket for the keys, Steve circled his prized possession and got in behind the wheel, staring at Dennis as he did so. He closed his eyes as he slid the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine roared to life.

Sighing loudly to himself, Steve turned it off and got out, turning furiously to the tall mechanic. “Who asked you to do this?” he demanded. “Who told you to f%$k with my car?”

“Easy,” he could hear Mike’s soft voice from behind as he glared at Dennis, whose eyes were snapping back and forth between the partners, his smile gone. He shifted nervously from foot to foot.

“Ah, it was, ah, it was Chief Hogan…” he said finally, his eyes finally settling on Steve, “he, ah, he’s the one that asked me to do it.” A smile briefly reappeared. “He knew I could do it without doing any damage to your car.” He nodded. “And I didn’t.”

Steve continued to stare, breathing heavily through his nose, trying to figure out what to do, or say, next. Dennis’s eyes slid towards the older man, who nodded subtly towards the tow truck. With a slight nod of his own, the mechanic took a step back. He pointed vaguely towards the truck. “I, ah, I gotta get back to the garage…” he said softly, taking one hesitant step at a time back to the truck cab, keeping his concerned gaze on Steve, who had his hands on his hips, looking down. Finally reaching the already open driver’s side door, Dennis jumped in and within seconds the truck was squealing away.

Mike glanced down at his daughter, who looked up at him with raised eyebrows. They both turned to stare at Steve, who still hadn’t moved.

“Son of a bitch,” the younger man muttered quietly, shaking his head. 

“Well,” Jeannie offered tentatively, “you did say you thought Hogan had something to do with it.” Steve looked at her and she shrugged slightly. “Now you know.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “now I know.” He sighed heavily. “Look, ah, why don’t you two go back to the station in the cruiser, and I’ll clear my stuff out of the room and then drive over there myself.” He was staring at the car, still peeved.

Jeannie looked up at her father, frowning. “Where are we going to-?” she started to mouth and he cut her off with a quick shake of his head.

“Not now,” he mouthed back, slightly shaking his head, “not now…” He looked at his partner and smiled. “That sounds like a great idea. We’ll do that.”

Still frowning in confusion, Jeannie followed her father to the back door of the cruiser. When they had closed both doors, she turned to him. “So where are we going to stay tonight, ‘cause I doubt we’re heading for home anytime today, right?”

“I know, I know,” Mike concurred, raising both hands slightly in surrender, “we’ll figure something out. But I didn’t want to poke the bear… did you?”

She stared at him expressionlessly for a beat then burst out laughing. She leaned against him as he chuckled and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. Her heart soared; even in the toughest of times, her father could always find a way to make her smile.


	25. Chapter 25

Mike hesitated as they got out of the cruiser in front of the police station. He looked at the building, trying to hide his indecision, trying to figure out a way to stall without being too obvious about it.

He’d done a lot of thinking as he’d stood in the shower, not coming to any real conclusions about his current dilemma, except that, for one of the few times in his life, he didn’t want to take the lead. He’d been beaten down, physically and emotionally, more than he had let on, and he also knew his mental acuity was suffering as well.

The vacation that he and Jeannie had embarked upon almost two weeks before, in the hopes it would go a long way in helping him come to grips with the harsh reality of his part in the tragedy that was Barney Lujack, had turned into a living nightmare that no one could have foreseen. He didn’t want to face Hogan on his own; he didn’t know if he’d be able to control all the conflicting and overwhelming emotions he had been battling for longer than he wanted to remember. He needed Steve right now almost more than he cared to admit, but he also didn’t want to put too much pressure on the young man who had already gone far above and beyond.

He flashed a smile at his daughter as he turned to the deputy who was just getting out from behind the wheel. “Ah, listen, ah, Brian, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” the young deputy nodded.

“Um, our car…. do you know what happened to our car? I know they probably towed it somewhere but…?”

Brian smiled. “Yes, sir, your car’s in the back. In our impound yard. Do you want to see it?” He pointed towards the rear of the building.

Mike’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Jeannie, who had moved closer. “Ah, yes, please.”

The deputy smiled. “I’ll go get the key. You can head back there if you want. I’ll catch up.”

Mike nodded. “Okay… thanks.”

Brian disappeared into the station. Mike looked at his daughter. “You want to see it?”

She looked at him blankly for a bit then nodded. “Yeah,” she breathed, slipping her arm through his as they started slowly towards the corner of the station.

They walked around the long building in silence, neither of them knowing what to expect but also knowing it was not going to be easy to see the car. The fact that they had both walked away relatively unscathed buoyed their spirits somewhat but it was still going to be a shock they knew.

They turned the corner. There was a chainlink fence around a small lot… and inside the fence was the blue sedan. They both stopped. Even from a distance they could see the shattered windshield and the extensive damage to the front end.

Jeannie felt her father take a deep, steadying breath, his entire body shuddering with the pain, both physical and emotional. Arm in arm, they slowly approached the fence. 

The increasingly loud sound of rapidly approaching footsteps could be heard behind them and suddenly the deputy was sprinting towards the gate, a ring of keys in hand. He opened the lock, slipped the chain from between the poles and swung the gate open. With a nod and a grim smile, he ushered them into the lot.

Without a word, Jeannie slipped her arm from around her father’s and approached what was left of the family car. They were both surprised at the extent of the damage they hadn’t seen until now, and both amazed at their lucky escape.

Jeannie looked at Mike as he stepped closer. “I’m so glad you had us put our seatbelts on,” she whispered. He nodded softly, not taking his eyes from the car.

She wandered around the trunk to the other side and looked in the open front window then, circling the crumpled hood, made her way back to her father again. He still hadn’t moved.

“We’re going to have to get our stuff out of it before we leave,” she said quietly, slipping her arm through his again. She looked up at his face. His expression was unreadable but tears were coursing slowly down his cheeks. She frowned. “Hey,” she said gently, shaking his arm, “we’re okay, Daddy, remember? We survived…”

He looked down at her then smiled softly. “It’s not that, sweetheart.”

“Then what?”

He looked at the car again and took a deep breath. He gestured at the sedan with his chin. “Your mother picked that car out. It was the last big purchase we made together… before she… you know…” He turned to her almost sheepishly, trying to smile through the tears.

“Oh, Daddy,” she sighed sadly, resting her head against his arm, her heart breaking for him.

# # # # # 

The Porsche was parked in the small lot at the front of the station when they returned to the front door. They had walked back slowly, Mike needing the time to pull himself together. Only Steve would know that all was not right with his partner, but he would be discreet enough not to inquire. 

The deputy opened the heavy front door for them and they stepped into the building. Steve was perched on a corner of a desk just on the other side of the counter; he still looked miffed but had obviously not said anything about his car to Hogan yet. That little fireworks display was still to come, Mike thought with an unexpressed cringe. Hogan and his secretary were standing near his office door. The young man Mike had spotted earlier was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Chisholm. Mike hoped they both were in the cells but in this town, he felt, anything could happen.

Steve checked his watch then looked up as Mike and Jeannie joined him. “I, ah, I just told Captain Hogan that we’d like to wait till 2 to start our little, ah, meeting or whatever we’re calling it. So, in about a half hour.”

Mike pursed his lips, nodding; he resisted glancing in Hogan’s direction. They had decided over lunch what their plan would entail. Steve had filled them both in on the details of his requests to Devitt and they had agreed that it was prudent to wait until they had the ‘ammunition’ they needed before they went any further.

And they were also hoping that Healey and Haseejian would show up sometime soon. It would be nice to have a pair of familiar faces on their side as well.

Jeannie pulled the chair out, insisting her father sit, and Steve slid off the desk and pulled a nearby chair over for her to sit on. He was just reseating himself on the desk when Dottie almost reluctantly approached them. Her smile was so guiltily sad that they almost felt sorry for her.

She glanced nervously over her shoulder; Hogan, who had been watching her, turned and entered his office, closing the door. “Um, Captain Hogan would like me to tell you a couple of things…” she began softly.

Mike was tempted to ask her why he wasn’t doing the dirty work himself, but held his tongue. His anger was directed at the Captain.

“Um, he’s asked me how many rooms you will need at the motel tonight? Courtesy of the town, of course,” she added quickly with an embarrassed smile. 

Mike and Jeannie looked at each other but Steve spoke up first. “Do they have rooms with twin beds?” he asked. When she nodded, he continued, “We’ll take a twin, and please ask them to add a cot.” When both Stones frowned, an action he could see peripherally, he turned to face them. “You two need to be together, and I don’t want you on your own, not after today,” he nodded at Mike, who pursed his lips and looked peeved but didn’t argue. 

They hadn’t told Jeannie about the incident with Chisholm and she picked up on Steve’s comment right away. “What happened today?” she asked but Mike just shook his head, patting her forearm. She didn’t press him but she didn’t look pleased.

Dottie nodded. “That, ah, that sounds just fine, we can do that.” She swallowed nervously. “And, ah, and the captain asked me to tell you that the town would like to treat you all to dinner tonight at Oliver’s, which is our fancy restaurant just down the street here,” she chuckled self-consciously, “at, ah, at whatever time you would like.”

Mike looked at Steve then Jeannie, their expressions unreadable, before turning his most beatific smile on poor Dottie. “That sounds fine. We will definitely take the town up on their… offer.”

Flustered, her face went blank before she suddenly smiled. “Oh, that’s… well, that’s great… I’ll make the arrangements when we know what time will be… suitable for everyone.”

“Everyone?” Steve asked, looking at her suspiciously.

“Well, ah, the three of you…” she stammered.

“And Captain Hogan?” Mike offered, and her eyes snapped to him. She giggled nervously as she nodded. “Well, I guess that depends on how the meeting goes, doesn’t it?” the older man asked with raised eyebrows.

Dottie smiled wanly, her head bobbing. “Yes…. Yes, I guess it does.” With a sound between a chuckle and a whimper, she turned and headed back to her desk.

Suppressing a smile, Mike looked at his young companions, all of them trying not to laugh.

# # # # #

At ten minutes to 2, the heavy front door opened and two uniformed California State Police officers strode into the station and up to the counter. Dottie got up from her desk. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

Removing their Stratton hats, the older of the two officers, who had captain’s bars on his collar, nodded as she approached, his eyes raking the room professionally, taking in the three civilians at one desk and a deputy at the back of the room. “Yes, ma’am, I hope so. I’m Captain Fletcher, this is Sergeant Griffin.” The sergeant nodded with a quick smile. “We’re here to meet with an Inspector Keller from the SFPD.”

Steve got up from the corner of the desk as Dottie turned in his direction. “That’s me,” he said as he approached the counter, slipping his badge and I.D. out of his pocket. They made their introductions. 

“We got a call from your Captain Devitt this morning, and he asked us to… drop in and see what’s going on here in Eldred,” Fletcher said guardedly, obviously trying to work out the dynamics in the room.

“Yes, I asked him to do that,” Steve confirmed with a nod, stuffing his credentials back into his pocket and inviting the CSP cops to join him in the bullpen. 

Watching the new arrivals with obvious concern, Dottie drifted towards Hogan’s door and knocked softly.

As they approached the desk, Mike started to get to his feet, trying not to wince, but Steve waved him down. “Captain Fletcher, Sergeant Griffin, this is my partner, Lieutenant Stone…”

“Mike,” he corrected with a smile as he shook hands with the uniformed cops. 

“And his daughter Jeannie.” 

Sitting on the other side of her father, she just nodded.

They could tell by the looks in the state cops eyes that they had both noted Jeannie’s facial stitches and bruises and the tensor bandages around Mike’s chest and shoulder.

“Ah,” Fletcher frowned, turning to Steve, his hat in both hands, “your Captain Devitt was… a little sparse with his details. He mentioned something about a fishing trip, an attempted rape, a couple of shootings, and a false arrest for murder?”

Steve glanced at Mike and both sets of eyebrows rose. The younger man chuckled feebly. “Well, you can’t say Roy’s not concise.” He looked at Fletcher with a slight mirthless smile. “Ah, well, in very broad strokes, yes, ah, that’s what happened.”

“Captain Fletcher,” Mike offered, glancing at his partner with a smile, “my daughter and I were down here for a fishing vacation… which took a very nasty turn last weekend.”

“I see,” the CSP captain nodded, turning to Steve. “And this…this nasty turn involves the attempted rape and at least one of the shootings, I assume?”

Both Mike and Steve nodded.

Fletcher took a beat before continuing. “And am I to further assume the other shooting and the false arrest for murder are also part of this… nasty turn? And that the local police are involved?”

Two more nods.

“And you want us to…?”

Steve took a deep breath. “Captain Fletcher, in a few minutes everyone involved in what happened last weekend is going to be in the same room for the first time and everyone’s going to find out what happened and why. And we need you and your sergeant to be… well, our de facto jury, I guess…”


	26. Chapter 26

Hogan had opened his door and was silently watching the conversation he really couldn’t hear from the relative safety of his office, as if something deep inside was telling him this might just be the last time he would be able to enjoy the privilege. The arrival of the two CSP officers was startling but not completely surprising; the SFPD detectives had no jurisdiction here.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped out of the office and crossed the bullpen, pasting on his most welcoming smile as he approached the group around the far desk. As the two CSP officers turned to face him, he stuck his hand out. “Chief Hogan.” Fletcher and Collins introduced themselves. “So I can assume you fellas are here about the incident that took place this past weekend?”

Steve stiffened, taking obvious exception to the benign term ‘incident’, but a warning glance from his partner, which he really couldn’t see but definitely felt, told him to let it pass without comment.

“Well, ah, it sounds like it could be a little more than just an ‘incident’, Chief,” Fletcher said smoothly, glancing down briefly at the hat in his hand. He looked up and scanned the bullpen. “Is there somewhere my partner and I can sit so we can take notes?”

Mike smiled slightly; he liked the way the CSP captain was getting right to the heart of the matter. He could feel the weight starting to lift from his shoulders, though there was still a long way to go.

“Ah, yes, you can use this desk, if you like.” Hogan gestured to a nearby empty desk and Fletcher and Collins moved towards it. The chief looked at his deputy. “Brian, can you bring Colin in, please?”

The deputy, who had been hovering near the counter, nodded, crossing to a nearby desk to retrieve the appropriate keys then disappearing into the cell room. With a quick glance at the trio from San Francisco, Hogan followed.

About a minute later, both Anderson and Chisholm were propelled into the bullpen and taken to separate desks. Both men were ordered to sit, one handcuff was removed, slipped around a wooden arm in the chairs, then reattached. As Hogan moved to the centre of the bullpen, the deputy stood guard over the two detainees.

Steve had slipped off the desk, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting beside his partner. Hogan slid a chair out from another desk closer to his office and sat. When everyone had settled, he dropped his head, as if collecting his thoughts, then looked up, his eyes briefly taking in everybody in the room.

“Mr. Stone, if you would permit me -“

“Lieutenant Stone,” Steve corrected with a slight growl, staring at Hogan with thinly disguised anger, and the chief nodded quickly.

“Yes, I’m sorry, Lieutenant Stone.” He looked at Mike, who nodded softly without expression. “Ah, if you would permit me, seeing as we have some people present,” he glanced at the CSP officers, “who have no idea what this is all about,” he exhaled heavily, “I would like to start at the beginning, which, unfortunately, goes back almost a year.”

Mike nodded again. Hogan looked at Fletcher; both he and Collins had taken out their notebooks. He nodded his consent as well.

“Thank you,” Hogan said quietly. “Well, I guess this all begins a little over eleven months ago. Johnny Seddon…” He paused and looked at Fletcher. “Seddon is our victim.” The CSP captain nodded. “Johnny Seddon is the grandson of Mr. Chisholm here,” he gestured towards the old man handcuffed to the chair at the back of the bullpen, “and Mr. Chisholm and his family, for all intents and purposes, own the town of Eldred. And, until about a year ago, it was a… a benevolent relationship. The Chisholms own a good number of the businesses in town, including the bank, and the town has prospered, especially when the park is busy.” He paused, a melancholy smile briefly playing over his chiseled features. “The Chisholms are good people.”

From the corner of his eye, Steve could see the old man’s head drop and his shoulders shake, and for a moment he almost felt sorry for him.

“Johnny… was different,” Hogan continued. “He seemed to always think he was special, but not in a good way. He felt that nothing he could do was… beyond the pale. It started out small. He would swipe candy from the general store when he was a kid, that kinda thing. He was caught drinking when he was only fifteen, and then he was caught drunk driving a couple of times… and we…” He paused and looked down briefly. “All of us… the town… turned a willful blind eye… because he was a Chisholm.”

The old man was still looking down.

“And, because he had no boundaries, he got more and more headstrong and… difficult as he got older, at least to the adults in town. He had a lot of friends, our Johnny boy, kids his own age, but mainly because he was footing the bill for everyone… you know, buying their rounds and stuff like that. I don’t know how well liked he was, but he was popular for all the wrong reasons…”

Steve looked at Anderson; their eyes met and the cop nodded softly. Anderson dropped his head.

“But then his bad behavior escalated even more.” Hogan paused and inhaled deeply. “He’d always been a lady’s man, I guess you could call him, and the girls loved him, and his money. But as he got more and more out of control, the girls didn’t like him so much anymore. And he didn’t like that. So he became more aggressive, which just… compounded the problem, of course.”

The police chief stopped and cleared his throat. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hand in front of his face. “The first… attack happened about eleven months ago. He met up with one of his old girlfriends in one of our bars, took her out into the back alley and… well, let’s just say he had his way with her. She didn’t want to report it because she was afraid of reprisals; her father manages one of his grandfather’s businesses.”

Chisholm’s head came up, frowning. If Hogan noticed, he ignored it.

“He did the same to another girl about a month later, with the same result. She didn’t want to report it, didn’t even want to talk about it. Her parents still don’t know.” He swallowed heavily. “The third one that I know of took place in the washroom at Charlie’s Gas & Go.” He looked at Jeannie. 

She froze, her eyes widening. She felt Steve’s and Mike’s eyes swing towards her, her father reaching out to lay a hand on her forearm, squeezing, trying to impart strength and comfort, and doing both.

With a brief sigh, Hogan continued. “There were two more. Girls he knew, girls we all knew… girls he knew would keep their mouths shut… because they were afraid… for themselves, and for their families…”

Hogan looked down, letting his words sink in for a beat before looking up at Anderson. The young man stared back, frowning, then seemed to realize what Hogan was silently asking him to do. He sat up a little straighter in the wooden chair, his nervous stare brushing over Mike and Jeannie and settling briefly on Steve, who nodded encouragingly. Their byplay was not lost on Fletcher, who frowned, making a quick notation in his notebook.

“Ah, I guess I was the last friend Johnny had… the last real friend. Everybody else drifted away… they knew what he was doing and they didn’t like it. Don’t get me wrong, they loved that he bought them drinks and their pool games and that kinda shit, but when he started… attacking girls…. Well, they couldn’t get away from him fast enough.”

Fletcher cleared his throat and all eyes snapped in his direction. “Ah, if you don’t mind answering a question, Mr….?”

“Oh, ah, Anderson. Colin Anderson.”

Fletcher wrote it down. “Thank you. Mr. Anderson, why didn’t you separate yourself from Mr. Seddon?”

Anderson looked at Steve again. He licked his lips nervously. Steve held his breath, not sure if the young man would come clean with the state trooper.

Anderson exhaled loudly. “I, ah, a couple of years ago Johnny talked me into helping him rob a couple of hikers in the park. Just for fun. We took their money and their cameras.”

Fletcher’s jaw tightened. “Were you armed?”

Anderson nodded. “Johnny was. He had a .22. He, ah, he pistol whipped the man… just for kicks, he told me afterward. That scared me. I wanted to go to my uncle, to tell him about it,” he eyes snapped briefly in Hogan’s direction, “but Johnny threatened me. He said he rat on me, tell my uncle that I was a willing participant in the robbery… and I couldn’t let him do that, I couldn’t let my family down… my mom…”

The CSP captain looked at Hogan. “You’re his uncle?” he asked, gesturing at Anderson with his pen.

The chief nodded slowly. “My wife and his mother are sisters.”

“I see,” Fletcher said flatly, making another notation in his notebook.

Hogan closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. Mike and Steve exchanged an expressionless glance.

Fletcher looked at Anderson again. “So what role did you play in Johnny’s… predatory activities?”

Anderson closed his eyes for several long beats then sighed heavily when he opened them again. “I was his driver, I guess. His lookout.” He shook his head. “I’m not proud of it.”

The CSP captain stared at him for an uncomfortable moment, then looked at Hogan. “How many girls did Johnny violate?”

Hogan made a sound somewhere between a sigh and an angry growl. “Five that we know of, before Miss Stone.” He nodded softly in Jeannie’s direction.

Fletcher looked at the young woman. “What happened this weekend, Miss Stone? You can take your time.” He smiled gently and encouragingly. 

She could feel her father’s hand tighten on her forearm, and could feel his soft eyes on her. “We were camping beside a lake near here. We’d come into town on Saturday to get some ice and fill the car. We were going to drive home the next morning and my dad wanted to make sure we had a full tank. We pulled into Charlie’s ‘cause they had a sign that said they had ice. I wanted to use the bathroom… after a week in the bush, I couldn’t pass up the chance.” Surprisingly, she smiled with a gentle chuckle, and most of the men in the room reacted in kind.

“The bathroom was clean but there was no lock on the door, just a small sliding bolt. I locked it, to make sure the door stayed closed more than anything else. It didn’t even cross my mind to be worried; my dad was just around the corner in the store…”

Mike closed his eyes, his bottom lip started to tremble and brought his other hand up to cover his mouth. 

“I was washing my hands when someone knocked on the door. I told them it was occupied but they knocked again. I yelled again that it was occupied but they kicked the door in…” She took a deep breath, staring straight ahead, her focus turning inward. She knew Mike hadn’t heard this before and she put her other hand over his on her arm and squeezed. He had opened his eyes and was watching her, one hand still covering his mouth, trying to maintain his professional detachment, but she could feel his anguish through his touch.

“He was on me before I could react… I didn’t even see him in the mirror, just a silhouette. I was stunned, I guess… I couldn’t move. He slammed the door and then he grabbed me… he put a hand over my mouth and he pulled me to the floor…” She closed her eyes and inhaled raggedly. “I knew what he was going to do to me…”

She felt her father’s hand tighten on her arm again as tears began to slowly course down her cheeks.


	27. Chapter 27

“Would you like to take a little break?” she heard Fletcher ask softly and, her eyes still closed, she shook her head.

“No, I’m okay, thank you…” Jeannie opened her eyes and looked at the state police captain with a grateful smile. She glanced at her father, nodding with a brief smile, and patted his hand on her arm. She took a deep breath as she looked down. “He, ah, he was bigger than me, of course… and strong, really strong… and I couldn’t get out from under him. I tried to fight back but I couldn’t move. He had a hand over my mouth and he’d pinned my arms to my sides with his knees. I could feel him pull my… my pants down… and my panties…”

She could hear her father’s sharp inhale. He closed his eyes, as if it would prevent him from seeing in his mind’s eye the terror his daughter had gone through. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, imparting much-needed strength, once again grateful for the presence of his young partner in his life.

“I stopped fighting… there was no point. So I just stared at the ceiling while he…” She took another deep breath in the silent room. “He, ah, he was fumbling for his belt and he still had his hand over my mouth but I managed to bite him. He yelled and pulled his hand away but I still couldn’t move…” She paused, her free hand going to her face, lightly touching the single black stitch on her left eyebrow above the still visible bruise on her cheekbone. “That’s when he hit me…. I’m not sure if I blacked out but I couldn’t move after that…” She swallowed heavily. “I just laid there… waiting for it to be over…” She shook her head as she took a ragged breath and closed her eyes.

The room was eerily quiet as an uncomfortable yet calming silence lengthened, everyone knowing she had more to say but allowing her whatever time she needed to pull herself together. Eventually she turned her head slightly, her blue eyes finding her father’s face and she smiled slightly. She squeezed his arm and he opened his eyes.

“The, ah, the door slammed open… and I heard a roar and then suddenly he was gone.” She smiled at her father again and he smiled back. “I couldn’t move at first and then I tried to get as far away from him as I could… in the bathroom… but I could still see him through the door…. He was on the ground… and my dad was kneeling over him. I could see his back… and he was hitting him… over and over again…” She continued to stare at her father, her tears starting to fall once more.

Fletcher looked at Hogan; the police chief was sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, his head down, taking slow, deep breaths. Clearing his throat slightly, he turned his attention to Jeannie again. “What do you remember next?” he asked gently and her blue eyes slid almost reluctantly in his direction.

She shrugged slightly. “I’m not sure what happened next really… uh, I remember the car driving away, a red car… then I remember my dad picking me up. He carried me to the front of the station… we tried to go in but it was closed…” She turned quickly to look at Mike again. “That’s when I noticed he’d been shot.”

Fletcher’s attention snapped to the lieutenant. “Sir?” 

Mike nodded, knowing it was his turn to take over the narrative. He smiled encouraging at his daughter, squeezing her arm again, then faced the CSP captain. He looked down for a beat, leaning forward, both elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped in front of his mouth and took a deep breath, using the moment to transition from devastated father to law enforcement professional. He raised his head. “Like Jeannie said, we stopped to get gas and ice. And a fan belt. The belt was going in my car and I knew I had to fix it before we could even think of driving home. And they had one.” He snorted softly. “When I got back to the car, I realized she hadn’t returned from the washroom yet…” He looked down and shrugged. “It was a cop’s instinct, I guess, but I knew something was wrong. So I went looking for her. When I got to the corner of the building, I saw the Chevelle… the red car.” He looked at his daughter with a soft smile. “It was idling opposite the door of the washroom and the the passenger door was open. And I knew.” He clenched his jaw, his suddenly cold eyes staring at a spot on the floor.

“He was on top of her when I kicked the door in… I grabbed him and threw him out the door and pinned him down… and then I starting hitting him… I couldn’t stop myself…. I wanted to kill him…”

He looked up at Fletcher angrily, with no remorse. Fletcher stared back evenly. After a long beat, Mike snorted softly and looked away. “I don’t remember getting shot, I really don’t…” He shook his head slightly. “But it must’ve… rattled me enough that the little bastard got away…” He exhaled loudly. “The car took off and I… I went to my daughter. Her eye was swelling and bloody and she was in shock. I picked her up and carried her to the front of the store, but like she said it was closed. 

“I wanted to get us out of there. I didn’t know where the little bastard was, and I knew whoever his friend was… well, that they had a gun and they were obviously prepared to use it. I had to get us out of there.” His eyes drifted to Anderson and the young man withered under the cold blue-eyed stare. “I knew our only hope was to get into town… tell the local police what had happened…” Mike’s eyes slid slowly towards Hogan, who was still looking down. 

After a beat, Mike lowered his head and exhaled loudly. “Turns out they were waiting for us… the red car. The fan belt was squeaking like hell and I wasn’t sure it was gonna last till we got into town, but I had to try. They, ah, they stayed behind us for a bit, then they pulled closer. I moved into the middle of the road to block him… I knew I had to keep him from pulling alongside me, to get a chance to take me out with the gun.”

He paused and looked at Jeannie. “I didn’t care what they wanted to do to me but I couldn’t let them get to my daughter again. I had to protect her… even if it killed me…”

Tears sprung to her eyes and she grabbed his arm, squeezing. He smiled at her and patted her hand, then looked at Fletcher again. “They were riding my bumper… then he dropped back and I knew what he was going to do next…” He snorted softly. “And that’s when my fan belt decided to go. We were doing over fifty when he ran into me, the back right fender, and he sent us into a spin… With the fan belt gone, so was my power steering… I had no control… and that’s when we hit the tree…” He shrugged. “The next thing I remember is waking up in a doctor’s office… with cracked ribs and a bullet wound in my shoulder, and being told I was under arrest for murder.”

Fletcher was making notes and a silence filled the room once more while everyone waited for him to finish. Hogan was still looking down; he hadn’t moved. Colin Anderson was staring at Mike, his face unreadable. Chisholm’s head was lowered but his eyes were open; he kept stealing glances at Mike and Jeannie from under his brow.

The CSP captain sat back slightly, glancing at his partner, then cleared his throat loudly. “I, ah, I suggest we take a short -“

“- gotta be here somewhere, that’s his car!” 

The loud male voice filled the room and every eye in the place snapped towards the front door where two middle-aged, slightly stocky men, one in a leather jacket, the other in a sports coat, strode rapidly into the building and towards the counter.

“Norm?!” Steve called out, shooting to his feet at the same time both Dottie and Hogan jumped to theirs.

Haseejian’s eyes darted around the large room, settling on his approaching colleague, his face splitting into a wide and very relieved grin. “Steve! There you are! Jeez, you’ve been hard to track down…”

Healey stepped beside his partner at the counter, his eyes fixing on Mike and Jeannie with his own relieved grin. Mike, with a warm but slightly embarrassed smile, pushed himself up slowly and carefully and, as he started towards the counter, glanced down at Fletcher. “A couple of my sergeants,” he said with raised eyebrows and Fletcher nodded. 

“Go. We’ll take a break,” the CSP captain chuckled softly.

Both Haseejian and Healey were eyeing him worriedly when he joined Steve at the counter, still smiling. “We were wondering when you guys were gonna get here,” he said with a chuckle.

Frowning, Haseejian glanced at Steve, his concern written all over his face, then addressed the lieutenant. “Yeah, ah, we headed to a town called Edward first… Roy couldn’t remember the name of this place….” he explained haltingly, still frowning. “Are you okay, boss?”

Mike nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he assured quickly. “Boy, are we really glad you’re here. It’ll be great to have a couple of friendly faces around.”

Both sergeants smiled, nodding, trying to keep their skepticism of Mike’s self-diagnosis out of their expressions. Healey shot a questioning glance at Steve, whose face registered cautious assent.

Haseejian gestured vaguely towards the bullpen. “Ah, what’s going on here?”

“Have you talked to Roy today?” Steve asked, ignoring the question. 

His eyes still on the scene in the bullpen, Haseejian nodded.

“Yeah,” Healey answered, “we called him after we talked to the cops in Edward and realized you guys weren’t there. He mentioned something about a car accident and a shooting and you being charged with murder…?” He looked at Mike with bewilderment. 

The older man shrugged and snorted. “Yeah, that just about covers it.”

Haseejian leaned over the counter and lowered his voice. “He also mentioned something about Jeannie…?” He let the rest of the question hang, as if he couldn’t make himself say the words. 

Both Mike and Steve’s faces hardened, and the older man’s eyes turned momentarily haunted. He nodded tersely. 

“Jeez…” Haseejian breathed, straightening up. 

Healey shook his head angrily, exhaling loudly through his nose. “What do you need us to do?”

Steve glanced over his shoulder. “Well, we’re in the middle of a…” He looked at Mike and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what the hell to call this. A post mortem, I guess, I don’t know…. Anyway, we, ah, we need to finish this before Mike and I can bring you up to speed on what’s happened, not that you can do anything to help right now… For all intents and purposes, it’s all over but the reckoning, I guess.”

His partner looked at him thoughtfully and nodded. “Yeah….” He glanced over his shoulder at the bullpen. “It’s gonna be at least a couple of hours till we’re finished here…”

“At least,” Steve sighed. “But I have an idea.” He reached into his pocket and took his car keys out, then looked at Mike. “I’ll be right back.”

All three watched him circle the counter and disappear out the front door. Healey and Haseejian turned back to Mike. “Are you sure you’re okay?” the Armenian sergeant asked sotto voce, genuine concern in his voice.

With a reassuring smile, Mike nodded. “Well, I’ve been better but I’m all right.”

“Roy said you were shot?” Healey asked, frowning worriedly.

Mike nodded again, reaching up almost subconsciously to touch the spot on his left shoulder. “It’s almost healed, it doesn’t even hurt. But I cracked some ribs in the car accident…” He snorted softly with a small shrug. “Now those hurt… but I’ll survive.”

The two sergeants stared at him, not quite believing his reassurances.

Nodding slowly, Haseejian leaned slightly forward again. “So, ah, so who are you accused of murdering?”


	28. Chapter 28

“Mr. Anderson,” Captain Fletcher said formally when everyone was back in their seats, the two SFPD sergeants having been sent on their task. The young man looked up, his eyes clouded with guilt and fear and worry. “Mr. Anderson, could you please relate to us the events of last Saturday, from your perspective, please?”

After a beat, Anderson sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat softly as he nodded. “Ah, yes, sir.” He glanced at Mike and Jeannie almost apologetically. “Well, ah, Johnny and, well, we’d been drinking… almost all night…” He looked at Fletcher. “Johnny had a cabin out of town… between here and the lake. We’d, ah, we’d party there… a lot. We woke up, I don’t know, mid-morning I guess and we had a couple a beers and then Johnny said he was hungry and we got in the car and headed for town…” His eyes drifted away. “We were getting near the main road when this blue sedan went by…. There’s not much traffic on that road this time of year and we could see a pretty girl in the passenger seat…”

Jeannie closed her eyes and dropped her head. Mike reached out and took her hand and she squeezed back gratefully. 

“Johnny started to laugh… that evil laugh he always got when he set his sights on somebody…. So he started following the blue car but far enough back so they couldn’t see us. He’d done that before… and he was good at it.” He swallowed heavily. “We saw the blue car pull into Charlie’s and Johnny stopped on the side of the road… When he saw the girl get the key to the washroom, he started to laugh again. So when her father went into the store, he told me drive around to the side of the station like we’d done before…”

He dropped his head and they could see him squeeze his eyes closed. “I turned the car around so we were facing the road… you know, for a quick getaway if we had to? And he got out of the car and kicked the door in and…” He took a deep uneven breath. “I, ah, I wanted to turn the radio up so I couldn’t hear what he was doing but I’d done that once before and he threatened me with the gun… so I just tried not to listen…. I heard him yell once. I guess that’s when she bit his hand.

“Then I saw her father come around the corner and race towards the washroom door. I didn’t even have time to yell, to warn him, you know. I knew Johnny was in trouble, both of us were in trouble. But before I could react Johnny was on his back in the dirt and Mr. Stone was pounding the hell out of him…. All I could see was Johnny’s head snapping back and forth and the blood and I, I panicked, I guess. Johnny’s gun was under the front seat and I got it out. I didn’t want to shoot… I’ve never shot anything with it before, not even a rabbit, but I knew I had to do something…”

His dark eyes slid towards Mike, who was staring at him evenly. His voice got very quiet. “I didn’t want to kill you, just scare you, you know…? So you would stop… I couldn’t believe it when I hit you… I was so scared…” He shook his head almost violently. “I’m so sorry… I really am…”

“What happened next, Mr. Anderson?” Fletcher interjected calmly and the shaken young man’s eyes snapped towards the state police captain.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry…” He took a beat to regroup. “Um, ah, well, Johnny got away and crawled towards the car. He dragged himself in and told me to get the hell outa there and I just floored it and we took off. He was screaming at me, about how he wanted to kill that old man and shit like that. I was driving back to the cabin when he yelled at me to stop and dragged me out of the driver’s seat and he turned the car around and started back to Charlie’s…. I was so scared… I knew he was mad enough to kill the… to kill Mr. Stone…”

He looked down and shook his head slightly. “He was a smart one, Johnny…. He parked on the side of the road just out of sight of Charlie’s and waited… somehow he knew they were still there and he was right. We saw the blue car pull out onto the road and he started to follow way back…. He got a little closer, just close enough for them to see us, like he was taunting them, you know, and then he got even closer…. He started to get really mad, like in a rage, ‘cause the other car was blocking us, driving in the center of the road and he couldn’t get a shot off…” Anderson closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. “He dropped back and then he floored it and hit the other car in the right fender and we both started to skid. The other car spun around and slid across the road and into a tree…. It all happened so fast…”

Anderson took another deep breath and looked straight at Mike and Jeannie. He bit his upper lip before he continued. “We couldn’t see anybody moving… I thought they were dead. I told Johnny we should get outa there… but he wanted to put a bullet…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “He wanted to put a bullet in Mr. Stone’s head, just to be sure, you know…. He started to get outa the car but I told him I could see somebody coming towards us, another car… and he changed his mind and spun our car around and headed back to the cabin…”

With Mike and Jeannie staring at him expressionlessly, Anderson dropped his head and closed his eyes. “We’d, ah, we’d only gone about a quarter mile when Johnny stopped the car… he wanted to turn around and go back, he wanted to make sure… he still wanted to put a bullet in Mr. Stone’s head and he started to turn the car around… and I knew I had to do something.” He stopped, almost struggling to breath as he started to shake. He was staring at the floor.

“He’d put the gun on the seat between us… so I just picked it up and shot him in the head.”

Jeannie gasped, her hand going to her mouth, her eyes wide. Mike stared at him without blinking. Steve, to whom this revelation was not a surprise, rested his hand on his partner’s shoulder again. 

Hogan had been watching Jake Chisholm closely. The old man had been looking down, hanging on Anderson’s every word, and now his head snapped up, his eyes black with fury. And even though he was handcuffed to the arm of the heavy wooden chair, with a roar like a wounded animal he lunged at the young man who was only a few feet away.

Almost simultaneously, Hogan leapt from his chair as his deputy, hovering between the two detainees, grabbed Chisholm by the arm and pulled him roughly back onto the chair. The old man yelped in pain as Hogan crossed the short distance, standing threateningly between Chisholm and a now cowering Anderson, whose wide eyes were staring at Johnny Seddon’s distraught grandfather.

With Brian holding him down, Chisholm glared up at the police chief, both of them breathing heavily. Neither man said anything for several long seconds, then Hogan looked at his deputy and nodded sharply before returning to his chair. Brian kept one hand on Chisholm’s shoulder, as if holding him in place.

Steve and Jeannie watched Hogan as he recrossed the room, but Mike continued to stare at Chisholm. The old man met his eyes fleetingly then looked down.

When Hogan sank heavily back into his chair, Fletcher glanced at his partner and cleared his throat pointedly. He looked across the room. “Mr. Anderson, if you would continue, please?”

Still looking at Chisholm with wide, frightened eyes, Anderson nodded, his attention slowly returning to the state police officers. He took a deep breath. “I, ah, I didn’t think I had a choice, you know… I couldn’t let him kill an innocent man who was only trying to save his daughter…” 

Mike dropped his head, and Steve could see him purse his lips, a sign, Steve knew, that he was struggling with his emotions. His hand still on his partner’s shoulder, he tightened his grip, trying to let the almost overwrought father know that he wasn’t alone.

“The, ah, the car just sorta rolled into the ditch and I got out… I left the gun on the seat… and I started to walk into town…” He looked down. “I walked past the other car again… I looked in to make sure they were both still alive then I kept walking…. I knew somebody would find them…” He stopped and inhaled raggedly. “And I, ah, I just walked home…”

Fletcher let the silence lengthen, his eyes scanning the room, trying to take the temperature of everyone present, debating whether they needed to take a break to calm nerves before they continued. His gaze settled on Jeannie and he asked the silent question with raised eyebrows. 

She looked at her father, whose head was still bowed, then met Steve’s eyes briefly before she nodded at the captain with slight smile.

Nodding back with a tiny, grim and grateful smile of his own, Fletcher looked at Hogan. “Chief?”

The Eldred police chief looked at his state counterpart and nodded, then let his eyes drift away again. “Well, I guess I should start by saying, and I know it’s not a defence here, don’t get me wrong… but I’d been looking for a way to get rid of Johnny Seddon for a long time.” 

Chisholm’s head shot up again, this time his fury directed at Hogan, but the chief ignored him and stared straight ahead. “I knew the hold he had over Colin… I knew about the robbery in the park…” He took a deep breath. “Colin’s a good boy, he’s a good student. His mom wanted him to go to UCLA and he had the grades to do it… but he wouldn’t get in if he was arrested for armed robbery so…?” He shrugged slightly. “And the Chisholms own this town… if they were to leave, and pull their businesses, and their bank… the town woulda died…. I mean, the town’s on borrowed time as it is, with the recession and all that, but that woulda been the last straw. People woulda lost their jobs, their homes, everything…”

He sighed heavily and looked down. “I felt helpless…” He raised a hand and ran it over his face. “And then this happened.” He looked up at Fletcher. “Someone came flying into the station here, saying there were two cars in the ditch just out of town and we rolled. We came across the Stone car first, it was up against the tree. The occupants were both alive but unconscious. I stayed with that car and sent my deputy,” he glanced up at Brian, “ah, my other deputy, Ben. He’s out on patrol right now. I sent Ben to the wreck and within minutes he radioed me and told me it was Johnny Seddon and that he was dead with what looked like a bullet in his head.

“So I got in touch with Doc Rivers, who came out to the scene with our town ambulance and we took the, ah, the lieutenant and his daughter to his office. They were still unconscious at the time but showing signs of waking up. And I went to the other car.” His eyes slid towards Anderson. “I knew Colin hung around with Johnny and I had Brian here go get him. He, ah, Colin told me what happened at Charlie’s… and that’s when I decided to try to pin Johnny’s murder on the lieutenant.”

He looked at Mike, his expression unreadable. The San Francisco detective looked up slowly, his eyes cold and hard, and felt his partner’s hand tighten warningly on his shoulder.


	29. Chapter 29

Captain Fletcher’s stern gaze snapped from Hogan to Mike and back again, and he shifted in his seat, the look and body language telling both men that he was the one in charge here. It was the Eldred police chief who broke the standoff first, glancing down.

Fletcher sat back slightly. “And how did you go about doing that, Chief Hogan?” There was steel in his tone that nobody could ignore.

Hogan exhaled loudly. “Well, I couldn’t do it alone… I had a lot of help. It wasn’t like what Johnny was doing was some kinda secret… everybody knew. And some were more… sanguine to turning a blind eye than others. Those were the ones I called on to help me.” He shrugged slightly. “Turned out it wasn’t hard at the start.” He glared at Fletcher almost defiantly before looking away again.

“The first thing we needed to do was plant a gun… and that was easy to do. I had a backup .38 that couldn’t be traced… I’ve had it for years. I’d hidden it in the spare tire well of my cruiser… just in case, you know…. Waiting for the opportunity. So I wiped it clean then put in the lieutenant’s right hand while the doc was taking Colin’s bullet out of his shoulder… and then I stuffed it under the front seat like the lieutenant had been trying to hide it.”

He raised his eyebrows briefly. “Johnny was shot with his own .22, so I just had Doc Rivers remove the bullet during the ‘autopsy’, which the doc wasn’t authorized to do, of course, but we covered by saying Johnny was still alive when we found him and Doc was trying to save his life… We, ah, we got rid of the .22 bullet and I put a spent .38 bullet, from my backup, in an evidence bag.” He snorted dryly. “That was the easy part. It got a little more complicated after that.”

“Keeping him from making a phone call when he woke up was little harder, but he was pretty out of it for awhile there after Doc took the bullet out of him and because of the cracked ribs. And we just told her,” Hogan nodded at Jeannie, “that her father had made the call they were allowed to make. She was still pretty shook up… she believed me.”

Mike, who had been looking down, reached out and squeezed his daughter’s arm. She put her hand over his and squeezed back, her expression unreadable.

“It was all pretty well under control for awhile there until… well, until you showed up,” Hogan turned his glare on Steve, who met the look evenly. 

Fletcher looked from one to the other, finally settling back on Hogan. “What do you mean by that?”

The police chief took a deep breath through his nose. “He didn’t identify himself as a police officer… just like his partner didn’t,” he said almost petulantly, shooting a quick glance in Mike’s direction. “He told us he was a lawyer. Our arrestee’s lawyer.”

Fletcher’s eyes flicked to Steve, who met them with a slight shrug. “If he hadn’t made a call, how could he have summoned a lawyer?” the captain asked with a tinge of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Steve’s eyes slid slowly and insolently away from Hogan and a tiny smile emerged. “I told him Mike and Jeannie were friends of mine and they were late getting home from a fishing trip and I’d come to check on them, And that I just happened to be a lawyer as well.”

Fletcher looked at Hogan. “And you took his word for it?”

“He had a card,” the chief spat out in his defence and the captain turned to Steve with raised eyebrows. 

The young detective shrugged again. “From an ADA we work with in San Francisco.”

Fletcher smiled, intrigued. “Does he know yet?”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Uh, I’m not sure. Our, ah, our captain might have told him… I’m sure I’ll find out when we get home.”

“I’m sure you will,” the state police captain chuckled. He turned his attention back to Hogan. “I assume that was your first mistake,” he said flippantly, writing in his notebook. Collins cleared his throat, trying to disguise his own amusement.

“Well, his charade didn’t fool us for long, not after he used his credit card to book into the motel.” Hogan turned his defiant eyes on Steve, who frowned. He’d been so sure he’d gotten away with that. “It wasn’t hard to make a couple of calls to San Francisco and track down a Keller who worked with a lawyer, an ADA, named O’Brien. We’re not country bumpkins here, you know.”

“Then why didn’t you call him on it?” Fletcher asked, his tone now back in full cop mode.

“Because that would mean our little plan would crumble even faster,” Hogan spat out then took a couple of beats to compose himself. “We just had to stall for a couple of weeks. That’s when the municipal court judge pays us a visit and Stone and his daughter would’ve been arraigned and tried, right here in town.”

“But it never would’ve stuck - this isn’t the old west,” Fletcher shot back.

“We knew that,” Hogan growled angrily, “but that would’ve taken time, and in the meantime we hoped it would’ve been enough to convince the Chisholm and Seddon families that Johnny wasn’t killed by a local, but by someone else he…ran afoul of. And maybe, just maybe, they’d stay… and the town would survive…. We needed the town to survive…” He sagged in the chair, his head down, and he sighed heavily, defeated. “I’ve lived my entire life here… a lot of people have. I wasn’t about to see it die… not if I could do anything about it…”

“By ruining someone else’s life… it was worth that much to you?” Fletcher’s question cut to the heart of the entire investigation.

Hogan stared at the floor.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room; every eye was on police chief, but it was hard to tell what everyone was thinking. Fletcher looked at the two San Francisco cops; he could see the younger one had questions. When Steve finally looked up and met his stare, he nodded.

“You had Dennis tamper with my car.” It was a statement more than a question, and Hogan raised his head and nodded. “I’m assuming Gary at the garage was one of co-conspirators?”

“Only as far as telling you that Dennis and his wife were in Hawaii. He wanted nothing else to do with it… that’s why Colin met you at his place this morning, he wanted us to come clean. Turning a blind eye to what Dennis was doing for me, that’s as far as he was willing to go before things got… out of hand…”

“What about the guy at the motel?”

“Jack? Yeah, Jack was in on it with me. We use that room of his as an… an overflow jail cell in the summertime, that’s why there’s bars on the window. He, ah, he had the phone in your room disconnected, and he put that sign up in the motel office just for you.”

Steve clenched his jaw, nodding slowly. “What about the payphone at the grocery store?”

Hogan smiled, startling everyone. He snorted a laugh. “Ha! That one’s legitimately not working. Hasn’t worked since the fall. We’ll need to get it fixed before summer, for the tourists.”

Mike, who had been staring at Hogan, asked quietly, “What about the guy at Charlie’s Gas & Go? After, ah…” he glanced at Jeannie, “after what happened, the store was closed…. Was he a part of all this as well?”

Hogan stared at him for a long beat then shook his head. “Not… not officially, if you want to call it that. Bob was working at Charlie’s last year when Johnny…” He stopped and cleared his throat softly. “…when Johnny attacked the other girl there…. When he saw the Chevelle pull into the parking lot again he knew what was going on… and he wanted nothing to do with it. Especially after he heard the shot.” Surprisingly, the police chief sounded almost contrite. “He, ah, he was still in the store… he just locked the door and turned all the lights off. And he fells like shit about it now, I can tell you.”

Mike closed his eyes and sighed. He felt Jeannie’s hand tighten on his again.

The front door opened, this time quietly, and Healey and Haseejian slipped into the room. Their eyes found Steve’s and they both nodded softly, then crossed to the corner on the right where several chairs were lined up against the wall. They slipped into them silently to wait, almost invisible to the bullpen behind the counter.

Fletcher looked at Hogan, nodding in Chisholm’s direction. “Why is he here and why is he in handcuffs?”

The chief flicked a glance in the old man’s direction. “He’s Johnny Seddon’s grandfather, Jake Chisholm… the guy that owns this town.” There was an edge in his voice none of them had heard before, and even Chisholm’s eyes darkened. “And he’s in cuffs because he tried to kill the lieutenant this morning.” 

Jeannie gasped, turning sharply to her father, who continued to stare at Chisholm, his jaw tightening. Her grip on his hand tightened. Near the front door, Healey and Haseejian sat up a little straighter, exchanging a worried look. Fletcher leaned forward sharply, frowning. “What, exactly, happened this morning?”

Hogan exhaled loudly. “While we… Inspector Keller, Colin and I, were at Gary’s garage,” he said vaguely, knowing he would have to explain that encounter in more detail as well, “I got a call from Dottie here,” he gestured vaguely towards his secretary and Fletcher’s eyes flicked in her direction, “called on the car radio to tell me Mr. Chisholm had bulled his way in, forcing her to let him into the cell. And while I was talking to her, we heard a shot. By the time we got over here, he had the lieutenant in a… well, a hostage situation…. It took awhile, but I managed to talk him into giving up his gun. And then I arrested him for kidnapping and brandishing a weapon.”

Fletcher turned to Mike. “Are you all right?”

Mike tilted his head with a soft sigh. “Well, it didn’t help with the cracked ribs any, I’ll admit that.”

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

The older man shook his head. “I’m okay. I can wait till we get home.”

Fletcher stared at him, not really convinced that the San Francisco detective was being completely forthcoming but he had to take the lieutenant at his word. He nodded and returned to his notebook.

“Daddy…?” Jeannie whispered in his ear as she leaned closer. “Why didn’t you tell -?“

The outer door slammed open and a tall, thin, middle-aged woman marched quickly into the station. Both Healey and Haseejian sat to attention, immediately sensing something was amiss. She strode up to the counter and raised both hands; she was holding a long-barrelled .44. “You son-of-a-bitch,” she screamed, “you killed my son!”

Suddenly every cop in the room was in motion. Fletcher and Collins immediately dropped to the floor, pulling their firearms as they spun towards the counter. Hogan pushed himself away from his chair and began to charge across the room towards Mike, who, with a cry of pain at the effort, tried to scramble to his feet to shield his daughter. Steve, who had glanced over his shoulder towards the commotion at the counter as he got up, turned and threw himself towards his partner. Jeannie doubled over in her chair, covering her head with her hands as her father loomed over her. The deputy at the back of the room pulled Anderson’s chair behind a desk as he ducked, drawing his .38. Chisholm screamed “Connie - no!!!” but it was too late.

The woman was swinging the barrel of the .44 back and forth, trying to get a clearer shot at her intended target, as Haseejian launched himself towards her. As his shoulder drove into her side, her finger pulled at the trigger and two loud shots rang out. His momentum took them to the floor, hitting the tiles hard, both of them grunting with the pain and shock.

In the split seconds after the trigger was pulled, three bodies hit the cold floor in the bullpen. Two of them didn’t move.


	30. Chapter 30

Haseejian was struggling with the woman on the floor, trying to get his hands on the .44. She pulled the trigger again and the bullet slammed into the counter. Healey, dodging the two pairs of flailing legs, managed to step around them and reached down to lean over his partner, grab the woman’s forearms and pin them to the floor. With Haseejian now free to get a better grip, he shifted his weight so he was on top of her then held her arms while Healey pried the long-barrelled revolver from her hands. “We’re clear!” he bellowed, fear and relief in his voice as he straightened up, breathing heavily.

On the other side of the counter, Fletcher and Collins sprung to their feet, their trained eyes scanning the others, trying to assess the situation. Hogan was lying on his side on the floor halfway between his chair and where the others had been sitting. Jeannie Stone was doubled over in her chair, starting to raise her head from under the cover of her upraised arms. The San Francisco inspector was pushing himself up from on top of his partner on the floor. Chisholm and Anderson were still in their chairs, staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of them; the deputy was crouched down behind Anderson’s chair on the other side of a desk. Dottie was nowhere to be seen.

After a stunned moment, Chisholm raised his head and started shouting, “Connie!! Connie!! Where’s my daughter?! Where’s my daughter?!” over and over again.

Holstering his weapon, Fletcher took a quick step to where Hogan was lying and dropped to his knees. He rolled Hogan onto his back, then looked up. “Is there a doctor in this town?” he yelled. 

Dottie, emerging cautiously from under the chair well of the desk she had been sitting at, stared wildly at the state police captain, trembling in terror. “He’s, ah, he’s away until tomorrow… I think…” Her words were halting and filled with dread. “I’ll… I’ll check,” she whispered in fear as he reached for the receiver of the phone on the desk in front of her, her hand shaking so much she could barely dial.

Fletcher was staring at Hogan’s face; the police chief was staring straight up, gasping for breath, blood starting to bubble from his mouth. The captain eyes raked the chief’s body; there was blood on his uniform shirt under his left arm and starting to pool on the floor beside him. In desperation, Fletcher put his hand over the wound, knowing there was nothing else he could do and also knowing, from long experience, that the chief would probably be gone long before medical help would ever arrive. He swallowed heavily. “Hang in there, Chief… help’s on the way.”

Collins, who had holstered his own gun as he kept an eye on the counter, stepped around his partner and approached Jeannie, who was staring anxiously at Steve and her father. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly and she nodded without looking up.

Steve was bending over his partner, who was lying facedown on the floor and hadn’t moved. “Mike… Mike…” He shook the older man’s arm gently. “Mike…” There was fear and shock in his voice.

Collins dropped down beside him. Jeannie slipped off the chair and knelt beside her father on the other side. She put a hand gently on the back of his head and leaned over him. “Daddy…”

Mike groaned softly and Jeannie gasped slightly in relief. “Daddy, were you shot?” 

The older man groaned again and shook his head slightly. Jeannie glanced up and met Steve’s eyes in momentary relief then leaned towards her father again, stroking his hair. 

Steve moved closer. “Is it your ribs?” he asked softly and Mike nodded again. Steve closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He knew that he had taken a chance in aggravating an already serious situation by tackling his already injured partner but he had known instantly that Mike had been the intended target and that there was no way in hell he was going to let his partner be gunned down by a grief-stricken mother.

His eyes squeezed shut, Mike gasped, sucking in air. He moaned. “I can’t… breathe…”. 

Steve’s frantic eyes darted around, briefly meeting Jeannie’s and Collins’, then he leaned close again. “We’re going to roll you on your back, okay? That’ll help.”

Mike nodded and held his breath as three pairs of hands gently rolled him over; he crossed both arms over his chest, trying to breathe in short, sharp gasps.

Collins got to his feet and stepped back to his partner, who was still tending to Hogan. Fletcher looked up and shook his head. Collins nodded and moved to a nearby desk. He picked up the phone and dialled.

Dottie, visibly shaking, raised her head from the receiver in her hand and looked in Fletcher’s direction. “Um, Doc Rivers got home this morning… he’s on his way over…” She hung the handset up as if in a trance.

Fletcher nodded, his eyes still on Hogan, who was staring straight up, gasping for breath, his eyes wide and glassy; he knew he was dying.

Chisholm was still yelling for his daughter. The deputy, having made sure Anderson was okay and still securely handcuffed to the chair, stepped in front of the old man, put his hands on both arms of the chair and stared into Chisholm’s face. “Shut up!” he yelled and the old man’s head snapped back, his mouth slamming shut. Then, with a strangled, anguished cry, Brian sprinted across the room and dropped to his knees beside his mortally wounded boss.

Healey stepped away from his partner as Haseejian got to his knees, pulling the handcuffs off the back of his belt and slapping them on the woman’s wrists that he had pinned behind her back. He dragged her into a sitting position and then, after he staggered to his own feet, started to pull her up. When she pulled away defiantly, Healey, resisting the urge to backhand her, tucked the .44, the safety on, into the back of his belt and grabbed her other arm. Between them, they dragged her to a nearby chair and shoved her into it. Then, with a nod at his partner, and handing him the deadly .44, Healey raced around the counter to join the others.

Jeannie was leaning over her father, still stroking his hair. Mike was staring straight up, his gaze unfocused, as he tried to drag air into his battered lungs. Steve, who was kneeling on the other side, kept looking over his shoulder at Fletcher and Hogan. He felt a hand wrap around his wrist and turned back; Mike was looking at him. “What’s going on?” the older man managed to whisper between gasps. 

Steve’s face crumpled briefly, his brow furrowing. “It’s Hogan…”

“He got hit?”

The younger man nodded. “He’s, ah…” He shook his head softly, briefly closing his eyes.

Mike took his hand off his partner’s wrist and his eyes drifted up again, staring unfocused at the ceiling. “Damn…” he whispered.

Collins hung up the phone. “Back-up’s on the way,” he told Fletcher as he returned to his side, kneeling. 

The state captain nodded. “Good. Ah, listen, do a complete recon for me, will ya?” As Collins moved away, he turned to Brian. “Listen, son, I need you to secure the building for me, okay?” The deputy didn’t react, still looking at Hogan’s face, at the police chief struggling to stay alive. “Deputy Morgan!” Fletcher raised his voice, his eyes scanning the name on the small metal plate on the cop’s breast pocket, and the young man flinched and looked at him. “Deputy Morgan, I need you to secure the building. I need you to make sure the only people allowed in are doctors or law enforcement personnel, am I clear?”

Morgan nodded then, with another look at the chief, scrambled to his feet and crossed the bullpen. As he pushed his way through the gate and started for the door, he shot an angry glance at Connie Seddon, her head down, sitting handcuffed in a chair under the watchful eye of the San Francisco police sergeant.

Healey knelt beside Steve, looking anxiously as his boss lying on the floor, in obvious pain. “Is everybody all right?” he asked quickly, his eyes snapping from Jeannie to Steve. 

They both nodded, Jeannie not taking her eyes from her father. 

Steve glanced at his colleague. “Are you guys okay?”

Healey nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, Norm tackled her. She’s cuffed.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hogan on the floor. “Is he the only one who got hit?”

Steve looked up, his eyes raking the room. “Yeah, it looks like it, thank god.”

Mike’s eyes had drifted in Steve’s direction. Healey looked at him and smiled. “How ya doin’, boss?” he asked with a smile, mimicking his own partner’s almost patented insouciance. 

The lieutenant managed a slight smile. “I’ve been better…” he mumbled back, an answer they had all heard before at one time or another. Healey smiled.

The outer door slammed open and an older, grey-haired man with glasses, holding a black doctor’s bag, hurried into the building, his eyes rapidly scanning the large room. “Over here!” A voice called out and his eyes snapped to the uniformed man kneeling in the centre of the room, beckoning him over. He jogged through the gate and strode quickly across the bullpen floor, his eyes professionally checking out everyone he could see, briefly hesitating on what seemed to be a second victim he was obviously unaware of.

“Ah, geez,” he growled angrily as his eyes fell on the bleeding man on the floor. “Oh, god, Roger,” he exhaled sadly as he dropped to his knees opposite Fletcher, not even acknowledging the police captain as he leaned over his dying friend. “Your gonna be okay, Roger… don’t worry… you’re gonna be okay…” he mumbled over and over, even though everyone knew he was lying, none moreso than the man lying on the cold hard tile.

Doctor Rivers started to rapidly undo the buttons on the chief’s shirt then pulled it open as Fletcher removed his hand from over the wound in Hogan’s side. Rivers opened his bag and took out his stethoscope. He placed the diaphragm on Hogan’s chest over his left lung and listened. Though his expression didn’t change. Fletcher could tell the doctor didn’t like what he heard. 

Taking the tips out of his ears, Rivers smiled. “We’re gonna get you outa here, Roger, and fix you right up. I just need to get the stretcher in here, won’t take a minute.” He started to get to his feet, meeting Fletcher’s eyes as he did so. 

Frowning, the state police captain stood and walked several steps away, following the doctor. Dottie moved almost somnambulantly away from the desk where she had been hovering and slowly lowered herself to her knees beside her boss. Leaning over him with a warm smile, tears brightening her eyes, she picked up his left hand and held in gently in both of hers. 

Gasping for breath, Hogan looked at her, trying to focus. Surprisingly, a slight smile curled the corners of his lips. “Dottie…” he wheezed, and her smile got a little bigger.

Rivers stared at Fletcher for a long beat then turned deliberately to look at Hogan. Fletcher, frowning, did the same. 

Hogan was staring into his secretary’s eyes and she was beaming down at him. Then the police chief stiffened and his eyes widened; his smile disappeared. And suddenly, his eyes staring sightlessly upward, his body relaxed and a soft breath escaped his open mouth. 

Dottie continued to stare, the tears starting to drip from her eyes as she held his hand. Rivers sighed and looked down; Fletcher closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. 

Steve, who had been looking over his shoulder, watching the drama playing out mere feet away, turned back and met his partner’s questioning eyes. With his lips pursed, he shook his head sadly. 

Mike turned his head so he was facing at the ceiling and closed his eyes. He took his left hand off his chest and reached out towards his partner. Steve grabbed the proffered hand and squeezed it. Mike squeezed back.


	31. Chapter 31

Her eyes red from crying, Jeannie looked up as Steve entered the room and crossed to the cell door, trying to smile at him as he got closer. “How’s he doing?” he asked quietly as he approached the cot.

Jeannie, sitting in a chair Healey had brought in from the bullpen, glanced at her father lying under the blanket. “I think he’s finally asleep. The pills the doctor gave him helped.”

Steve squatted down beside her, one hand on her back, rubbing gently. “How are you doing?” 

The last couple of hours had been very hard for everyone, but even moreso for the young woman who, even though she grew up a cop’s daughter, had never been in such a terrifying situation, one in which for a few brief moments she thought had taken her father’s life.

The past several days had been a living nightmare for Jeannie Stone, a reality that was not lost on her father’s partner, and his heart was breaking for her. What had started out as a innocent vacation to help get her father’s mind off a tragic episode in his own life had turned into a horrific fight for her very soul.

When Mike finally felt recovered enough to get to his feet, Fletcher had insisted he retreat to the calm and quiet of the cell room. He knew the police station, now the scene of a major crime, was going to become a loud and busy place very soon, the last thing the injured lieutenant needed to endure. So, with the assistance of his partner and daughter, and not unaware of the irony, Mike had made the pilgrimage back to the place he had only recently managed, he had hoped, to leave behind for good.

Doc Rivers had examined him, carefully removing the tensor bandages, frowning in concern when he’d listened to his left lung through the stethoscope. He had pulled Steve and Jeannie aside and informed them, in hush tones that he hoped Mike wouldn’t hear, that he was worried that the older man’s ribs were now broken and that he may have suffered a partial lung collapse. Quickly reassuring them that such a condition, though painful, was serious but not life-threatening, he suggested transporting Mike to the nearest hospital, which was almost a hundred miles away.

Her father, of course, had refused with as much energy as he could muster, insisting that his presence was needed and that he was well enough to wait until he returned to San Francisco before seeking further medical help. His daughter, torn between loyalty and worry, had finally acquiesced to his demand, but it hadn’t stopped the dread in the pit of her stomach that had spilled over into tears when she thought her father had finally fallen asleep.

She looked at Steve, her smile wavering. “I’m okay…” she said softly and she felt his hand slide around her shoulder as he pulled her into a quick one-armed embrace. “I’m worried about Mike. I really want to get him out of here and go home…” She was looking at her father again.

“I know,” he said quietly, gently kissing her hair as he got to his feet, his eyes on the cot as well. She watched as he started to turn towards the door.

“I’m not asleep,” Mike mumbled, opening his eyes. He started to push himself up as Jeannie turned quickly back to the cot. 

“Don’t move,” she ordered.

“Don’t get up.” Steve spun around, raising both hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. 

Rolling his eyes, Mike let his head drop back onto the pillow. “What’s going on out there?” His voice sounded stronger than both young people were expecting.

Steve stepped closer. “Well, the guys from CSP are here and they’re interviewing everybody. It’s taking time, obviously, and they’ll get to you eventually, but I don’t think there’s anything you can add to what the rest of us haven’t told them already. I have a feeling this is going to go on well into the night. They’re waiting for the coroner to arrive from somewhere…. And Fletcher put a call in to the District Attorney’s office in San Bernardino. Who knows when an ADA will be able to get here, but they’re definitely gonna need one.” He smiled mirthlessly. “I’m kinda glad it’s out of our hands this time…”

Mike nodded. “So they, ah…?” He looked up at the ceiling and blinked quickly a couple of times. “So they haven’t taken Hogan…?”

Steve shook his head softly. “Not yet. Everybody’s pretty broken up… Dottie’s a mess… so’s Colin. Norm said there’s half the town, maybe more, congregating outside. I don’t know how they found out so fast but… small town, I guess.” He shrugged. “People are just… standing around, stunned.”

Mike sighed softly. “They’re not the only ones.” He looked at the younger man. “You know, I wanted so much to hate him for what he did to us… but I couldn’t…. And I really didn’t want anything like this to happen.”

Steve was shaking his head gently. “Yeah, me too…”

“It was Jake Chisholm’s daughter, right?”

“Oh yeah. Thank god Norm and Dan wee sitting there or god knows how many of us she could’ve taken out before Fletcher or Collins would’ve gotten a shot off. We were all sitting ducks.”

“Yeah…” Mike said quietly, then looked at his partner again. He moved his legs slightly and, pulling his right hand out from under the blanket, gestured at the cot. Steve sat on the edge. “You know, I’ve been lying here thinking about it… and, you know, I’m beginning to think that I might not have been her target after all.”

Steve frowned. “You think she was gunning for Hogan?”

The older man shrugged carefully. “Well, think about it. She just yelled ‘You killed my son’, right? She could’ve meant Hogan was responsible for Johnny’s death because Hogan didn’t protect him like he’d always done.” He tilted his head slightly. “Do me a favor, will you, and try to find out how savvy she was about using a gun?”

Steve grinned. “You working this case, Lieutenant? You know it’s not our jurisdiction, right?”

Smiling, Mike chuckled gingerly. “I think they owe me this one, don’t you?”

The younger man snorted, still grinning, and patted his partner’s leg through the blanket. Then he exhaled heavily and his smile disappeared. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, I’d rather be lying in my own bed right now but I’m doing okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll survive… no thanks to you,” he finished with an affectionate smirk.

Chuckling, Steve patted his leg again as he got to his feet. “Well, you weren’t moving fast enough to get out of the way… so I just helped.” He winked and the older man laughed softly. He looked at Jeannie, who had been watching them with a worried frown, then stepped closer and crouched down beside her. He gently put his hand on the back of her head, and looked into her eyes, smiling sadly but encouragingly. It had been an hellacious few days for all of them but she had suffered the most; and, unlike the rest of them, this was not the milieu she was used to. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked softly as her father watched.

Swallowing heavily and trying to smile, she nodded. She saw Mike’s right hand move slowly towards her and she leaned forward slightly to grab it, squeezing reassuringly; she knew he was as worried about her as she was about him.

“We’ll be going home soon, sweetheart, I promise,” he said with a loving smile.

Steve looked over at him and smiled. “You bet we are. And we have a couple of escorts too, with a nice big car.”

Jeannie frowned suddenly. “We’re gonna have to go back to the lake before we go and -“

“Get your camping stuff, I know,” Steve finished for her with a chuckle. “Already done.”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s the little task I sent Norm and Dan off to do this afternoon. I gave them the map I had in my car and they found it with no problem and - surprise, surprise - they even figured out how to pack the tent. It’s all in the trunk of their car.”

“Even the chain from the dock?”

“Even the chain from the dock,” Steve nodded, “minus the fish skeletons.”

She smiled and shook her head softly. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

They both heard Mike chuckle and looked at him. He shook Jeannie’s hand lightly. “Why do you think I picked him for a partner all those years ago? He’s not just a pretty face, you know.”

With a laugh and a wink, Steve got to his feet and started out of the cell again. As he got to the door, he looked back. “Do either of you need anything?” Father and daughter both shook their heads. “Okay… I’ll be back a little later.”

Two pairs of very grateful eyes followed him as he left the room.

The bullpen was a scene of organized chaos. Deputy Morgan was standing almost at attention over the body of his boss, now covered with a white sheet. The young man looked shellshocked but determined. Fletcher was sitting at a desk near the chief’s office, attempting to interrogate Connie Seddon, who was still handcuffed; she wasn’t responding to any of his questions, from what Steve could see.

Collins was conferring with Haseejian at another desk. The doctor was sitting in a chair at the back of the room close to Jake Chisholm, both of them staring silently at the floor. A couple of other CSP officers were interviewing Anderson and Dottie in separate offices, while other officers were taking pictures and measurements of the bullpen turned crime scene. 

Healey was standing just inside the front glass door, staring out into the darkening scene in the parking lot at the front of the building. Steve moved slowly cross the room and out through the gate to join him. The sergeant looked over as he approached and nodded softly then turned to look out the door again. “This is a town in a lot of pain right now,” he said quietly.

Steve nodded softy. “Yeah…” He could people milling around, small groups forming and reforming as people drifted from one spot to another as if suddenly rudderless, suddenly thrust into a situation they had never imagined they would ever have to face.

“Does this town have a mayor?” Healey asked softly and his companion shrugged. 

“I have no idea,” Steve muttered, surprised by the question. It had never occurred to him, but then again things had moved so very fast the thought had never even crossed his mind. It was hard to believe that it was only that morning when he had been told to be at the diner, it was only that morning when he had met Colin Anderson and all the pieces had started to fall into place. He could feel Healey’s eyes on him.

“How are you doing?” the older man asked kindly.

Still looking through the glass, Steve smiled softly. He exhaled slowly. “To be perfectly honest, Dan, I’m not sure. It’s been an unbelievable couple of days… and even with all the… all the shit that I’ve had to put up with, I really can’t imagine how Mike and Jeannie are feeling.”

Healey nodded sadly. “She seems to be holding up pretty well, all things considered,” he ventured hesitantly.

Steve looked at him, his eyes haunted, and snorted very softly. “No… she’s not. She’s putting up a good front, for her father… but I’m pretty sure she’s not fooling him either. She’s hurting… badly… and there’s nothing I can do for her right now. Nothing anybody can do, not right now anyway.”

Healey stared at him silently for a long beat, then turned to look out the glass door once again. Steve did the same. Then, slowly, he reached out and turned the knob. He pushed the door open and stepped out into the crisp evening air, nodding at the two State Police officers standing guard. Every eye turned in his direction; he moved slowly across the parking lot, his hands in his pants pockets, avoiding the stares, needing the fresh air. 

He was walking past a small group of people standing with their heads together, whispering, when he heard a louder voice close by. “Mr. O’Brien?”

He stopped, momentarily startled, and turned. Light from the station glinting off the tears coursing down her cheeks, Doris was staring at him.


	32. Chapter 32

Steve nodded. “Doris,” he acknowledged quietly, taking a step towards her.

She stared at him wide-eyed then shook her head quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry, I, uh, I keep thinking of you as Mr. O’Brien. I’m sorry…” She was wearing a bulky light blue cardigan over her uniform, her hands clasped in front of her, holding the remains of a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes, something he knew she had been doing for awhile.

He nodded understandingly. “That’s okay. Call me Steve… please…”

Twisting what was left of the tissue, she nodded with a brief, grateful smile. “I, uh… we… we haven’t heard what’s going on…. just rumors…” Her nervous heartbroken glance towards the glass door momentarily froze his voice in the back of his throat.

He sighed heavily as he took another step towards her, taking his right hand out of his pocket and gently touching her arm. “I’m, ah, I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to tell you anything right now.”

She looked at him, her eyes haunted and scared. “Is it true Chief Hogan was killed?”

Steve pursed his lips and bobbed his head slightly. “I’m sorry, Doris, I can’t…” He shrugged helplessly.

She nodded to herself, looking down. “Of course, I’m sorry…” After a long beat, she looked up again. “Did you meet with Colin this morning?” she asked, the mask of worry still darkening her features.

He smiled slightly despite himself. “Yes… thank you. He turned out to be very… helpful…. But, again, that’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

She snorted softly, looking down. She bit her lips and took a deep breath then looked up at him hopefully, shooting a brief glance at the building. “Is he in there? Colin?”

Steve took a beat, knowing he really shouldn’t be sharing any information with her at all. Then he nodded softly.

She returned the nod with another quick grateful smile then cleared her throat. “Is there any way… I just need to know if he’s all right, that’s all… I just…” She was staring at him with so much worry in her eyes that he had to look away.

He sighed heavily then turned back to her and nodded. 

She closed her eyes and lowered her head, her relief palpable. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He stared at her for a long beat then asked quietly, “He’s your son, isn’t he?”

Her head snapped up, meeting his eyes, her own a mixture of fear and guilt. He didn’t blink and, after a couple of very tense seconds, she nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“And that would make Chief Hogan your brother-in-law?”

She nodded again.

Steve felt his heart drop into his stomach and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

She was watching him closely, and a lone, soft, strangled cry escaped her lips. She brought the torn and soggy tissue to her mouth, suddenly almost unable to breathe.

Steve stepped a little closer, lowering his head and his voice. “Is your sister here?”

Doris nodded, turning her head slightly to the right; he followed the move. There was a large dark sedan parked near the side of the building, the driver’s door open. There were so many people crowded around the car that it was impossible to see the driver but he assumed it was Hogan’s wife being comforted by friends.

Steve looked back at Doris, who was staring into space, overwhelmed by grief and worry. He reached out and gently squeezed her elbow. Her eyes travelled slowly towards his, her lips curling in a soft, thankful, heartbreaking smile. He nodded, mirroring her look, then stepped away. A very hard day was getting even harder, and he just wanted it to end.

# # # # #

Mike was watching his daughter. She was sitting in the large wooden chair, still holding his hand, but her stare was unfocused, her face expressionless. He gently squeezed her hand and her head turned very slowly in his direction. He smiled. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

She tried to smile, nodding, but her lips began to tremble and she gasped for a breath, her eyes filling with tears. Her nods turned into head shakes as she stared at him and his own eyes started to well up. He let go of her hand and patted the cot beside him, holding his breath and gritting his teeth as he shifted himself over, making room for her.

She got up as he pulled the blanket back and, slowly and carefully, she laid down beside him. He draped the blanket over her, then raised his right arm and slipped it under her head. She lay on her side, her head against his shoulder, her right arm lightly across his stomach. Making sure she was covered by the blanket, he wrapped his right arm around her and held her close.

They were both crying silently.

# # # # # 

Steve had crossed the street to get away from the ever expanding crowd in front of the police station. But although the number of concerned and worried townspeople continued to grow, the conversations continued at a whisper, as if they didn’t want to break a spell. A few people had wandered away, as if overcome by grief or worry and needing a moment or two to themselves.

A man he thought he recognized was crossing the street in his direction, his head down, his hands in his pockets. When the man stepped up onto the sidewalk, he glanced up, his face caught in the light of the streetlamp; it was Gary, the garage owner. He smiled sadly with a brief nod. Steve smiled grimly back.

They stood a few feet apart in silence, staring back at the crowd in front of the station, then Gary looked over. “A helluva thing, hunh?” he said softly.

Steve nodded, his lips pursed. 

Gary looked at the station again, his head bobbing slowly. His hands in his pockets, he rocked back and forth, as if he was unable to remain still, as if he had something to say. Steve waited patiently. Finally the garage owner glanced over again. “Hey, I, ah… someone said you’re really not a lawyer but a cop. Is that true?”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Umh-humh.”

“From San Francisco?”

“Umh-humh.”

Gary nodded at the police station. “So do you know what happened in there?”

“Umh-humh.” The garage owner shot him an annoyed look and Steve swallowed a slight smile, taking a tiny bit of pleasure in his ability to rattle someone so easily, a talent he had learned at the feet of the master. He took pity on the man and smiled apologetically. “I have no jurisdiction here, so the State Police are in charge. They’ll… they’ll let everyone know what happened at the proper time, when they’re ready.”

His conciliatory tone seemed to be accepted by the other man, who looked at the station again and nodded. He looked worried.

“Listen, ah, Gary, can I ask you a question?”

He looked over again. “Sure.”

Steve took a couple of steps closer. “Do you know Connie Seddon?”

Gary frowned and his head went back slightly, as if the question upset him. “Why?” he asked, his tone suddenly cold and suspicious. “What’s she got to do with all this?” he asked, gesturing at the police station with his chin.

The question caught Steve by surprise. He thought everyone already knew that Connie Seddon had been the shooter; now he knew they didn’t. He scrambled to find a reason for his question so as not to tip his hand. “I’m asking in regards to her son’s murder, not this.” He nodded towards the station.

Gary looked at him suspiciously for a couple of long seconds then nodded, seemingly accepting of the explanation; Steve relaxed a bit. “Well, she’s not as much of a recluse as her pappy but nobody pals around with her, if that’s what you’re driving at. I mean, I’ve looked after her cars and trucks over the years so I’ve dealt with her then but, well, let’s just say we don’t travel in the same social circles. You see, I have friends, I go to the bar, I go to parties… she doesn’t do anything like that.”

“The family keeps to themselves, do they?”

“And then some… except for the younger generation… like Johnny.” Gary looked at the station again and frowned. “Maybe the town’d be better off if he had been more like his elders…”

Steve nodded in agreement. “I can’t argue with that.” He paused. “So, you have any idea if the Chisholm family was familiar with guns?” he asked tentatively, trying to make it sound casual enough that Gary wouldn’t realize he was alluding to the shooting that had just happened across the street.

“You mean Johnny?”

Steve shrugged. “Johnny, his grandfather… his mother… the whole family…”

The garage owner snorted. “‘Course they did. I know Johnny carried a .22, most people knew that. The grandfather had a gun rack on the back of the cab on his pickup with a couple of rifles on it.” He nodded across the street where the old man’s beat-up red truck had been moved to the side of the building but was still visible. “Hell, I was doing some repair work on Johnnys’ mom’s car one time last year and found a .44 under the front seat. A .44, for Christ sake.” He shook his head in disgust.

“Did you say anything to her about it?” Steve asked with a smile, trying to sound just casually interested.

Gary chuckled dryly, reaching up to scratch the back of his head almost unconsciously. “As a matter of fact, I did. I asked what she was doing with such a big gun and she looked at me like I’d asked her why the sky was blue. Then as she drove away, she winked and told me she could shoot the eyes out of a potato at 50 yards and I’d better beware.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Damn right I did.”

Both men laughed.

# # # # #

Steve wandered slowly back to the station. He had taken a walk up and down the main street, trying to clear his head, if only temporarily. The sun had gone down and a chill had settled over the town, adding to the misery. He had watched as the crowd had grown ever larger, as businesses closed and word spread. 

Healey had given up his vigil by the door and joined his partner at a desk in the bullpen. They were sitting side by side, heads together in quiet conversation. Fletcher, Collins and two of the other CSP officers were huddled in one of offices; Dottie was no-where to be seen. Chisholm and Anderson were still handcuffed in their chairs, as was Connie Seddon. Her head was down, her chin on her chest, and her eyes were closed. 

Deputy Morgan was still standing guard over the body on the floor, still at relaxed attention. Steve stopped and stared at him for a long moment, intrinsically knowing exactly how the young cop was feeling. 

He looked at his watch. It was getting close to 8 but it seemed much later. It had been such an unbelievably long day. Fletcher caught his eye, saying something to the others as he got up from the desk and left the office to approach him.

“How are you doing?” the captain asked with a weary smile, more a greeting than an actual inquiry.

Steve snorted. “Ask me in a week.”

Fletcher chuckled. “Yeah, for sure. Listen, ah, as soon as the coroner gets here, we can get things wrapped up for now and call it a night. But that’s still gonna be awhile, I think. We’ve ordered a bunch of pizzas and drinks from the diner and they should be getting here soon. There’s enough for everybody.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Okay, great.” Fletcher seemed a bit distracted. “Ah, listen, there’s a couple of things I want to talk to your partner about before we wrap up here for the night. Do, ah, do you think he’s up to having a talk with me, ah, maybe while we eat?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Steve smiled enigmatically. “As long as I get to sit in when you do it. I am his lawyer, after all,” he chuckled and, after a brief moment of confusion, Fletcher laughed.


	33. Chapter 33

A large pizza box in one hand, Steve opened the heavy wooden door slowly, trying to be as quiet as he could. He stepped into the room and looked around the door into the nearest cell. The wooden chair was empty and the lump on the cot under the blanket seemed much larger. Smiling softly to himself, he stepped further into the room and let the door close slowly behind him as he moved to the open cell door.

As he got a little closer he saw Mike’s head turn in his direction and a soft smile light his face. Steve could see the top of Jeannie’s head against his partner’s shoulder and he returned the smile, lifting the pizza box so Mike could see it better. With a silent chuckle, the older man rolled his eyes then looked down at his daughter’s head, starting to move his right arm.

Steve put the pizza box on the chair then moved the other cot closer as Mike began to lift the blanket off his daughter. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered and she moved slightly. “Sweetheart, Steve’s brought us a pizza.”

She moved a little more and a soft groan could be heard. Mike glanced at his partner with an amused smile then looked at his daughter again. He was relieved that she had fallen asleep, even it was only for a few minutes; he’d had no such luck. He was exhausted, in pain and hungry, but he damn well didn’t want Jeannie or Steve to know, at least not at the moment. They still had some things to get through before they could even think of going home, he knew. He had to keep strong for all of them, especially his daughter.

Jeannie’s head moved and she looked up at her father. “What…?” she mumbled.

Mike was staring at her lovingly. “Steve brought us a pizza.” He nodded over her head and she turned slowly. 

Steve had picked up the box and was presenting it like a courtier to a king. “Dinner is served,” he chuckled.

Managing to find a smile herself, Jeannie pushed the rest of the blanket away and slowly sat up, being careful not to jostle her father. She moved to the chair as Steve set the box on the second cot then stepped closer to the first to give his partner a hand. He pulled the blanket completely away then reached out to grab Mike’s upper right arm and help him sit up. Squeezing his eyes tightly, Mike held his breath until he was upright. 

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Jeannie asked worriedly as she stared at her father’s contorted face.

Whenever she called him that, his heart broke a little. It meant one of them was in pain, either physically or emotionally; this time he knew it was both of them, in both ways. He managed an encouraging smile. “Oh, yeah… just a little sore. Nothing to worry about.” He looked at his partner in anticipation, hoping to change the subject. “I don’t suppose there are anchovies on that, by any chance?”

Steve stared at him with amused alarm and chuckled; he knew what the older man was trying to do. “Ah, no, I wouldn’t think so… thank god…” he muttered, looking at Jeannie for confirmation; they were both rewarded when she looked at him and made a face.

“Ditto,” she said dryly as she got to her feet. She paused for a moment, looking towards the toilet and sink in the corner of the cell then back at Steve. “I need to use the bathroom in the office,” she said quietly with a glance back at her father, who nodded, still smiling. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Steve asked, and she turned to him with the condescending scowl that both men knew only too well.

“Ah, no, I think I can do that totally on my own, thank you,” she said pointedly as she started across the floor.

The men looked at each other, exchanging a quick grin, both relieved that the feisty Jeannie they knew and loved was still there, just below the surface. They watched her go, then Steve turned anxious eyes on his partner. “How are you doing… honestly?”

Mike looked up at him. “Honestly?” Steve nodded. “Not too good, but not bad enough to go to the hospital right now, if that’s what you mean.” To stave off further interrogation, he nodded towards the toilet. “I, ah… I have to go too. Can you give me a hand?” He held his right hand out and, with a subdued but angry growl, Steve took it and helped him up. Mike tried not to gasp in pain but was woefully unsuccessful. Steve helped him across the cell then took several discreet steps back.

When Mike was finished washing his hands, he turned back to his young friend and waved off the help. “I’m okay. I just need help to get to my feet, that’s all.” He started slowly back to the cot, Steve at his side.

“Listen, ah, Fletcher wants to know if he can have a talk with you. I’m sure it’s what we both think it is. Anyway, I told him he could probably do it while we ate, and that I wanted to be there… you know, as your lawyer,” he finished with a chuckle and Mike looked at him, confused at first then with a smile.

“Boy, I want to be a fly on the wall when Gerry finds out what you’ve been doing in his name.”

“I think he already knows… I just don’t know how he feels about it.”

“Oh, you’ll find out, I’m sure of that,” Mike laughed as he reached the cot and turned to sit. Steve took his right elbow and helped him down.

Chuckling, the younger man turned towards the door. “I’ll go tell Fletcher he can come in in a few minutes. Oh, ah, they have soft drinks out there. You want a ginger ale?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Mike nodded, grinning, watching as Steve left the room. Alone, he let his eyes close and gritted his teeth as he sagged, almost overwhelmed by the pain in his chest, the pain he was trying so desperately not to let anyone see. His daughter needed him now more than ever, and he still had things he wanted Fletcher to know before he could allow himself the luxury of giving in to the demands of his battered body.

He heard the door open and straightened up, trying to act natural as he reached for the pizza box on the chair. He was fumbling to open the lid with his right hand when Jeannie crossed the cell towards him. “I’ll get that, daddy,” she said quickly when she saw what he was trying to do.

She took the napkins off the top of the box and put them on the cot then opened the box. The smell of hot pizza, that had already permeated the room, got even stronger and she actually smiled, which made his heart soar. “That smells good,” she said with a deep inhale.

“It’s not bad, actually,” her father admitted. “Steve and I had one the other day…” He stopped and frowned. “Dear god, I think it was yesterday. It feels like it was a week ago…” He snorted in surprise, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

The outer door opened again and Steve strode in. He had two Cokes and a ginger ale in his hands. He smiled at Jeannie as he got closer then looked at his partner. “Fletcher will be in in a few minutes.” He turned his attention to Jeannie. “He wants to talk to Mike about a couple of things. I don’t think it’s anything you have to worry about, just, ah, police housekeeping.”

Frowning, Jeannie looked at her father, who tilted his head. “He’s right. You don’t have to go anywhere, it’s nothing secret.”

“Okay,” she said softly, reaching for a piece of pizza. When she lifted it, ripping off the cheese strings, Steve picked up the box and held it closer to Mike.

# # # # #

“So how was the pizza?” Fletcher asked with a chuckle as he crossed the cell.

All three nodded. “It’s really good,” Jeannie answered, sounding surprised.

“I know,” Fletcher confirmed, his chuckle turning into a deep laugh. “Who’d thought a small berg like this would have such great pizza?” He looked at Mike. “How are you feeling?”

The older man smiled. “Better than I thought I’d feel. The pizza helped.”

“Good,” Fletcher said, sitting on the cot Steve had pulled closer. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Mike, there’s a couple of things I want to talk to you about… vis-a-vis the Johnny Seddon murder.” He looked at Jeannie. “Ah…?”

Mike’s eyes snapped to his daughter and back. “What happened to me happened to her as well. Maybe even more. She has just as much right to be in on these decisions as I do, don’t you think?”

Fletcher pursed his lips and nodded. “Of course. Just so you know, the San Bernardino ADA got here about an hour ago, and Collins and I have discussed everything with him. Connie Seddon has been arrested for murder and attempted murder, for starters. But we’re, ah, we’re still discussing the Johnny Seddon murder and, of course, the assault on you by Jake Chisholm.”

Jeannie’s eyes snapped to her father; so much had happened since she heard about that incident, mere seconds before Connie Seddon had opened fire on them, that it had slipped her mind. Mike glanced at her, frowning, his look telling her that they would discuss it later, and she bit her lip, lowering her head slightly in acquiescence. 

“Yeah, I thought you might,” Mike smiled slightly, nodding. “And I’ve been thinking about that a lot too, both situations.”

“Okay, good,” Fletcher said slowly, nodding and leaning forward even more. “So, what have you been thinking.”

Mike looked at him evenly, then pursed his lips and nodded. “I’d like to start with Mr. Chisholm, if that’s okay…?”

Fletcher nodded. “Sure, of course.”

Mike nodded his thanks then took a moment to choose his words. “In a lot of ways, I can understand where he was coming from, as the kids say…” He smiled briefly. “He’s the family patriarch, and that carries a lot of weight, especially to people of his generation. And he just had his grandson taken from him, in a very shocking and tragic way. Now, whether or not he knew about what his grandson had turned into… well, none of us knows that at the moment, but if what he said when he charged in here after me, that his daughter told him I killed Johnny… well, maybe his daughter was keeping things from him… for the good of the family.” He looked at Fletcher with raised eyebrows. “That’s not unheard of, is it?” The question was rhetorical but the captain nodded anyway.

Mike sighed sadly, studiously avoiding the concerned stares of the two younger people. “Other than putting a bullet in the ceiling and roughing me up a bit, I really don’t think he was going to do what he threatened to do, I really don’t. He was a man in a great deal of pain, lashing out at the person he was told had caused that pain. And in a way, it was not unlike what I was doing to his grandson before Colin Anderson put a bullet in my shoulder.”

From the corner of his eye he could see his daughter stiffen, his partner close his eyes. He lowered his head and sighed softly. 

The springs in the cot squeaked as Fletcher shifted slightly. “We’ll do…” he began slowly and quietly, “whatever you think needs to be done.”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, Mike raised his head. “This man has just lost his grandson… and his daughter. His life is in ruins and his family is shattered. The pain can’t get much deeper than that. And I don’t want to add to it.” He stared into Fletcher’s dark eyes. “So I would appreciate it very much if no charges were filed against Mr. Chisholm.”


	34. Chapter 34

Fletcher stared at the San Francisco homicide lieutenant for a long silent beat then straightened up, shaking his head slightly. He exhaled loudly and a mirthless smile played quickly over his lips. “Well, you have a greater capacity for forgiveness than I do, Mike, I’ll tell you that. If he did to me what I heard he did to you, I’d want his ass in a sling, that’s for sure.”

The older man just stared at him, his face expressionless. 

After a long beat, Fletcher looked at the man on the cot beside him. “You were there, Steve. What do you think should happen with Mr. Chisholm?”

As if he knew he was going to be put on the spot, Steve’s eyes slowly turned to his partner, his own face not betraying what was undoubtedly racing through his mind. He stared at the man he loved and respected so much for a couple of very long seconds, knowing both Fletcher and Jeannie were watching him closely. Mike, who seemed very sanguine about what he had just requested, continued to look at Fletcher.

Steve briefly closed his eyes, his heart starting to pound. “Mike and I are usually on the same page about most things… but I have to disagree with him on this one.” He shook his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes suddenly very sad. “I saw what Chisholm did… and I know he was hurting… and angry…. and I know he was filled with rage and grief… but god damn it, Michael, he almost killed you…” He paused, trying to get a grip on this sudden swell of anger, and watched his partner close his eyes.

Steve dropped his head and exhaled sharply. “Look, I know you don’t want to add to the man’s grief, I understand that… but, my god, somebody’s got to take some responsibility here for what’s happened… to you, to Jeannie.”

At the mention of his daughter’s name, Mike opened his eyes and they snapped in his partner’s direction, dark and angry. A tense silence suddenly hung over them. It was Mike who uncharacteristically backed down first, tilting his head back slightly and allowing his eyes to drift toward the ceiling as a soft sigh escaped his lips.

Steve watched him, swallowing heavily, knowing he had hit a nerve. Part of him was glad that he finally got through to his stubborn partner but another part of him was angry at himself for questioning Mike’s decision, as misguided as he thought it was. At a loss for what else to do, he reached out, laid his hand on Mike’s forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

Still not meeting his partner’s stare, Mike laid his hand over Steve’s then looked at Fletcher. He shrugged slightly and a very tiny mirthless smile fleetingly curled his lips. “I’ve said what I wanted to say, Captain. So now you know how I feel. And I understand how Steve feels as well. Believe me, I do.” He snorted softly. “This is your jurisdiction, Captain, not ours. The decision to press charges or not is entirely up to you and the district attorney. And I will abide by what you decide.” He paused for a beat, his intense blue eyes boring into the state police officer. “But you know how I feel.”

After another tense pause, Fletcher shifted slightly on the cot and nodded. “Yes, I do. And I thank you for that.”

Mike turned to his partner and they shared a look for a long second. Then, with a very slight smile, Steve nodded, squeezed his partner’s arm once more then removed his hand and sat back.

Fletcher looked from one detective to the other, his gaze finally settling on the older one, and he snorted softly. “Well, ah, that’s, ah, that’s one subject dealt with… sort of,” he said lightly, shaking his head softly. He raised his eyebrows at Mike. “So, ah, the other elephant in the room in Colin Anderson.”

The older man tilted his head slightly. His eyes narrowed as he studied Fletcher so intensely that that it made Steve frown in curiosity. Eventually a tiny grim smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I want to know what you think first,” Mike said flatly and quietly.

Fletcher, knowing he was being played by a master, sat back slightly, unable to stop the respectful smile that tugged at his own lips. He exhaled loudly with a very soft chuckle. “Okay…” he began slowly. “Well, from what both you and Jeannie,” he glanced at the young woman in the chair, “told us, and from what Anderson said himself - which I believe, by the way - well, I would like to petition the D.A. to charge him with justifiable homicide.”  
Both Mike and Steve stared at the captain silently. Jeannie’s eyes were snapping back and forth between her father and Fletcher. “What does that mean?” she finally asked, not really caring who answered her question. 

It was Fletcher who turned to her. “That means he won’t go to prison for killing Johnny Seddon.”

“At all?”

“At all.”

She looked at her father, her brow furrowing. He glanced at her, knowing in an instant exactly what she was thinking. He turned his attention back to Fletcher. “I agree. He did the world a favor, there’s no doubt about that. But he also stood by silently while Seddon attacked those other girls… while he attacked Jeannie…” He let the rest of the statement hang, knowing that to give it voice would only allow the fury he had been tamping down to raise its ugly head once again.

Fletcher was shaking his head vigorously and he leaned forward to lay his hand on Mike’s knee, one father to another. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let him off scot-free on that, believe me. That’s why I’m considering asking the D.A. to charge him with Gross Negligent Discharge of a Firearm.” 

After a short beat, both San Francisco detectives nodded. Jeannie, her eyes flashing from one cop to the other, finally settled on her father. “What does that mean?”

It was Steve who responded a little faster than his partner. “That means he could spend up to three yeas in prison, or it could be filed as a misdemeanor and he wouldn’t serve any time at all.”

“No time at all?” Jeannie echoed angrily, staring at her father, who was watching Fletcher.

The captain, who was meeting Mike’s stare evenly, nodding softly. “That’s true, but I’m leaning towards recommending a year, in a minimum security facility. That way he pays for what he did, but it doesn’t ruin his life.” He paused, continuing to meet Mike’s unreadable expression and, in effect, lobbing the ball back into the lieutenant’s court.

Mike could feel all three pairs of eyes on him, three held breaths. Eventually he nodded so slightly they almost missed it, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “I don’t have a problem with that.” He looked at his daughter. “How about you? You have a say in this too, of course.”

Jeannie sat back sharply, frowning. She was not prepared to have a voice in the decision and suddenly the weight of what they were talking about hit home. She stared at her father but he just looked back at her without expression or comment. Nervously, she looked down at her hands in her lap and took a long beat. When she looked up, she was facing Fletcher. “I think I can live with that, if my father can.”

Mike’s face lit up with a proud smile and she reached over to take his hand, biting her bottom lip. On the other side of Fletcher, Steve was nodding in agreement.

Shaking his head slightly, Fletcher looked from father to daughter. “I’d say something about apples and trees but I’d hate to state the obvious.” They all chuckled softly. “Listen, uh, thank you - both of you - for this. I think it’s the right thing to do under the circumstances.” He looked at Mike. “The jury’s still out, so to speak, on what the D.A. will do about Chisholm, but I will pass along your request.” He shot furtive glances at Steve and Jeannie, who once again were showing their displeasure in their expressions. “And I’ll be in touch about that. And, just so you know, the coroner got here about an hour ago and Hogan’s body has been removed.” There was a respectful moment of silence. “But right now,” he said brightly, slapping his thighs as he changed the mood in the room, “we’ve got to see about getting you all to the motel for the night, then making sure you an all hit the road for home first thing in the morning. Anything else we need to do about this case we can do over the phone.” He started to get to his feet.

“Ah, about that…” Mike began and Fletcher stopped halfway up, sitting down again. “Ah, I really don’t feel up to going anywhere right now.” He patted the cot he was sitting on. “And I’ve gotten kinda used to sleeping to sleeping on this damn thing… so if it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay right here.”

Fletcher started slightly, making a face, then snorted a short chuckle. “Ah, sure, yeah, I don’t think that’s a problem.”

“Then I’m staying here too,” Jeannie said quickly, looking from Fletcher to her father and nodding once, almost defiantly. “I’ll sleep on that.” She pointed at the cot the captain and Steve were sitting on.

His eyebrows raised, Fletcher turned to Steve, who smiled and shrugged. “I, ah, I can sleep in the other cell,” he said lightly, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder.

Frowning slightly, the captain looked from one pleasantly smiling face to the other. “Okay… ah, I’ll let the motel know. But, your two sergeants…?”  
“Oh, they can still go to the motel, if that’s okay?” Mike answered, still smiling. 

Fletcher nodded, chuckling. “Yeah… yeah, that’s fine.” He got up. “I’ll go tell them.” He looked at all three again. “So, you guys need anything else tonight before we pack up and get out of here for a few hours?”

All three shook their heads. Steve looked at his partner. “No, I think we’re okay.” He looked at Fletcher pointedly and the captain nodded; he knew Steve was in charge now.

“Okay, well, you guys try to get a good nights sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.” He started towards the door then turned back. “Mike, you take care of yourself and if you need Collins or me for anything during the night, we’re staying at the motel too.” He looked at Steve. “Okay?” There was another round of nods.

After the captain left, Steve turned to his partner. Mike was sitting with his eyes closed. He touched his arm and the older man’s eyes opened. “Are you okay?”

Mike’s smile was more automatic than genuine and both younger people frowned in worry. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just really tired… it’s been a hell of a day, hasn’t it?” He turned his weary eyes on his daughter but she wasn’t fooled. 

She got to her feet quickly. “Here… lie down,” she ordered, putting her hands on his shoulders and almost pushing him down onto the pillows. Holding his breath and closing his eyes, he let her do it, and she shot a very worried glance at Steve who helped lift Mike’s legs onto the cot. She sat beside him, one hand lightly on his chest as he lay with his eyes closed, trying not to grimace as he attempted to take deep breaths. “Daddy, are you sure you’re okay?”

Keeping his eyes closed, he smiled. “If I say yes, you’re not going to believe me anyway, are you?”

Her worried frown got even deeper. “No.”

He chuckled softly. “Let’s just get through the night and go home tomorrow, okay?”

With a glance over her shoulder at an equally worried Steve, she patted her father’s chest tenderly. “Okay…” she whispered, already knowing nobody was going to get a good nights’ sleep.


	35. Chapter 35

Jeannie was right: nobody got a good night’s sleep. She had pulled her cot as close to her father’s as she dared, knowing he didn’t want her hovering. When he turned his head and shot her a scowl, she knew she was close enough.

Steve had retrieved his flight bag from the Porsche and settled in on the cot in the other cell, laying so he could keep an eye on both Stones through the bars. He knew how much they were hurting emotionally, and his heart was heavy with the realization that there was only so much he could do to help them get through this devastating ordeal.

Mike had a hard time trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t aggravate the pain emanating from the left side of his chest. He had admitted to himself hours ago that he needed medical attention but he also wanted to make sure things had been settled, for the most part anyway, before they could watch this disturbed and broken little town vanish in their rearview mirror.

And he was more worried about Jeannie than he was letting on; he knew she was suffering, and he also knew there was nothing he could do for her at the moment. He hoped that when they finally got home, and he could talk to someone who had experienced a similar assault, that he could finally help his daughter deal with the horrific nightmare she had been forced to endure.

And, he hoped, maybe help himself in overcoming the staggering sense of guilt he felt that he had allowed this to happen to his daughter. 

Eventually all three fell into an exhausted sleep; not nearly long enough, but better than nothing. Steve was the first to wake, and he slipped out of the cell room quietly. As he was returning from his visit to the washroom, flight bag in hand, he heard the key in the front door and Fletcher led Collins into the station. 

The captain smiled. “You’re up early… or did you just not sleep at all?”

Steve snorted softly. “I think I got a couple of hours. You guys are here early.”

Collins nodded. “Yeah, we want to get things wrapped up today so we don’t have to stay another night.”

The San Francisco cop dropped his bag on a nearby desk and leaned against it. His eyes briefly passed over the bloodstain on the floor, a stark reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded the day before. “So, ah, so what’s going to happen here now?”

“You mean who’s gonna become the new chief?” Fletcher asked.

Steve nodded.

The state police captain shrugged. “Well, we’re gonna take over for now. CSP will patrol the town until they can get an election together. We talked to the mayor last night -“

Steve smiled vaguely to himself; he’d have to tell Healey the town really did have a mayor.

“- and he was against the idea of one of the two deputies taking the post, even temporarily. They’re both still too young and inexperienced, especially in the wake of everything that’s gone on. And to be perfectly honest, we’re not even sure what their level of complicity is, so that’s something that still needs to be explored. Anyway they’re going to put a tender out and see if they can get someone with a law enforcement background to apply, and then have an election if there’s more than one response. I think it will be a good idea for them to bring in someone who has no ties to the town, all things considered.” He shrugged in frustration. “Anyway, who knows how long that’s gonna take but the CSP will fill the gap until it does.”

Steve was nodding slowly, staring into the middle distance. “This town is going to be facing a very uncertain future, isn’t it? With the Chisholms maybe out of the picture entirely now… I wonder what’s gonna happen to the town.”

Both state police officers shrugged; Collins sighed heavily. “You know, part of me feels sorry for them, but another part of me feels they’re getting exactly what they deserve.”

Steve looked at him and snorted. “Yeah, that’s how I feel too. Not a very pleasant feeling, is it?”

Collins shook his head. “No, it sure isn’t…”

All three let a melancholic silence settle for a few seconds, then Fletcher looked at Steve again. “You know, I was thinking about what your partner said last night. And I do understand completely where he’s coming from… with regards to Chisholm… and I respect his concerns… and I am going to leave it to the D.A. to make the final decision… But I am going to recommend that Chisholm be arraigned on kidnapping and weapons charges. Hell, he could be charged with assault for what he did to Mike, as we all know, but I’ll keep that out of the equation, for Mike’s sake.”

Steve nodded. “I agree. Thank you.”

Fletcher acknowledged the confirmation with a one short, sharp jerk of his head. “Oh, by the way, the ADA last night issued a warrant for Doctor Rivers, and he’s been taken into custody on a variety of charges, not the least of which was desecration of a human corpse and tampering with evidence. You know, because of the supposedly ‘life-saving measures’ he performed on Johnny Seddon to ‘save his life’ but was actually done to recover and dispose of the bullet that killed him and substitute the one from the .38. So this town has to find itself another doctor as well.”

The inspector exhaled loudly, dropping his head and shaking it sadly.

“Yeah,” Collins sighed, “and that might just be the tip of the iceberg. I’m sure there’s other people in town who were part of the coverup but that’s for a little further down the road. For right now we have the deputies to worry about. And then there’s Dottie and the guy that runs the motel, and we’re going to be talking to all the girls Seddon assaulted - well, all the ones that’ll talk to us - and see if we need to make any more arrests.”

“Mike uncovered a wasp’s nest,” Fletcher said softly.

Steve’s head came up. “Unintentionally. I’m sure he wishes it never happened, at least not to Jeannie.”

“Yeah, I bet he does.” Fletcher closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Anyway, ah, Norm and Dan were just coming out of their room when we left so they should be here shortly. They said something about stopping by the diner and picking up some baked goods and coffee for everybody first. And we’ll help you get Mike and Jeannie squared away and… well, you guys can hit the road for home.” He frowned. “You, ah, you’re going get Mike some medical attention…?”

“We’re going straight to the hospital the minute we get to San Francisco. He doesn’t get a choice in the matter, no matter how much he complains.”

Fletcher and Collins snorted. “Boy, does that sound familiar,” the sergeant chuckled, gesturing with a nod towards his partner behind the other man’s back.

The captain rolled his eyes when Steve tried to mask his smile. “I’m assuming Mike and Jeannie are riding in the LTD and not that sweet little ride out there.” He glanced over his shoulder at the front door. “That’s your Porsche, I’m assuming…?”

Steve chuckled self-consciously. “Yeah, that’s mine.”

Collins frowned. “Just how much do they pay you guys up in ‘The City’?” he asked with a smirk and a head bobble that took the sting out of the words.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve had to answer that question since I bought the damn thing. And my answer is always the same - I’ll still be paying for that little baby even after it makes that tow-truck assisted final trip to the junkyard.”

Both CSP officers laughed, moving deeper into the room, getting ready to start their day. Steve picked up his bag and headed for the cell room, their laughter following him through the door.

Jeannie was awake and was just sitting up. She glanced at him as he crossed to the first cell door and put her right index finger up to her lips. As he got closer, frowning, she whispered, “I want him to sleep as long as possible,” nodding over her shoulder at the other cot. Mike’s eyes were closed and his breaths deep and even; he was obviously still asleep.

“Good idea,” he whispered back. 

She had changed into her flannel pajamas the night before, and she put on her flip-flops, gathered her belongings and stuffed them into her duffle bag then picked it up. Steve grabbed her arm when she started for the door. 

“Ah, Fletcher and Collins are here already,” he whispered in warning as he nodded in the direction of the bullpen.

She shrugged with a soft chuckle, briefly glancing down at herself. “It’s not like I’m wearing baby dolls… I think I’ll be okay. I look like a character from The Brady Bunch, not Lolita.”

Steve’s eyes snapped down again and he bobbed his head in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

She frowned suddenly, looking peeved, then reached out to gently slap his upper arm. They started to laugh then stopped abruptly, both of them looking towards the cot. Mike didn’t move. She exhaled pointedly, looked at Steve again with a smile, picked up the duffle bag and started for the door.

He watched her until she left the room, marvelling once more that, with everything she was going through, like her father she could always find a moment of humanity and humour in almost any situation. He looked at the cot; Mike was still sound asleep.

# # # # #

The pain in his chest woke him. His eyes squeezed shut and holding his breath, he raised his right hand under the blanket and slid it across his chest to apply pressure to the tensor bandages still supporting his broken ribs. The additional tension actually eased the discomfort and he stayed in that position for several long seconds before he exhaled softly and relaxed his hand.

Taking another deep breath, he opened his eyes and almost jumped. Steve, siting on the second cot, was staring at him, not even pretending to mask his worried frown.

“How bad is it?” the younger man asked.

Mike stared at him silently for a beat. “Where’s Jeannie?” he asked quietly.

“She’s out in the office. Norm and Dan brought breakfast. I told her I’d check on you. So, how bad is it?” he repeated.

“What time is it?” the older man asked, starting to pull the blanket off.

“Quit stalling and answer the question.”

Mike froze, scowling, trying to outstare his partner then, with a pain-filled sigh, let his head drop back onto the pillow. “I can get home… I think…”

“You think?” 

Steve’s eyes hadn’t left his face and Mike closed his own. He felt a hand on his arm and a concerned squeeze. He swallowed heavily. “I’m pretty sure I can make it home.”

“Just ‘pretty sure’…?”

Mike opened his eyes, stared at his young friend, and nodded. “I want to be there for Jeannie, at least until we get to San Francisco…. Then I promise I’ll let you take me to the hospital… okay?” He put his hand over the one on his arm. “And I need your help to do that, Steve… please…?”

They locked eyes, one set pleading, the other almost petrified with fear.

“Please…?” Mike asked again.

Several heart-stopping beats later, Steve closed his eyes and sighed. “Okay…” he said softly, “if you promise me, when we get home, that you’ll let me take you straight to the hospital?” 

His face breaking into a soft and appreciative smile, Mike nodded slowly. “I promise…”

Steve squeezed his partner’s arm again then took his hand away. He got to his feet, continuing to look down at the injured man laying on the cot. “What do you need me to do?”


	36. Chapter 36

Steve was doing up the zipper on Mike’s duffle bag and her father was standing at the sink, washing his hands, when Jeannie returned from her trip to the office bathroom. She smiled to herself in relief, tossing a quick glance at Steve, who raised his eyebrows and nodded encouragingly.

She dropped her bag on the floor near the door. “How are you feeling, Mike?”

He turned slowly from the sink, smiling. “Great. I actually got some sleep last night. You?”

She nodded. “Umh-humh. Norm and Dan are here, and they brought breakfast. Some donuts and croissants and coffee. It smells great.”

“Sounds good to me,” her father said as he headed back towards his bag. As he started to bend down to pick it up, Steve tutted sharply and the older man froze, frowning. 

“I’ve got this,” Steve said matter-of-factly, picking up the heavy duffle and starting for the door.

Mike looked at his daughter with feigned indignity. “He thinks I can’t carry my own bag…”

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “And he’s right.” She looked around the cell to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything then picked up her own bag, gestured for her father to precede her, and fell into step behind him, smiling to herself when she heard him sigh loudly and pointedly.

Steve left his own small bag near the cell door as he opened the large wooden door to the bullpen and held it open for Mike and Jeannie to move past him. Besides Fletcher and Collins, Haseejian and Healey, several other CSP officers had arrived and the place was already bustling.

Every eye in the large office looked in their direction and every face broke into a relieved smile when they spotted the injured lieutenant walking through the door. “Hey hey, there he is,” Haseejian chortled, the warmth so obvious in his voice it made several of the others chuckle. “How you feeling today, boss?”

Fletched shot the San Francisco sergeant an amused smile, surprised by the informality, then looked back at Mike, laughing softly.

The older man’s face lit up and he chuckled. “Pretty good, Norm. Thanks for asking.”

Jeannie, leaving her bag near the cell room door, ushered her father closer to the desk festooned with the boxes of baked goods and cups of coffee. She pulled a chair closer and made him sit. As Steve collected his bag, Haseejian acted as ersatz waiter and offered father and daughter their choice of breakfast pastry and then added milk and sugar to their coffees.

“So,” Healey said, sitting on the corner of a nearby desk, “the LTD has a full tank and we’re ready to roll whenever you are. And if we get out of here soon, we should be back in The City by rush hour,” he chuckled. “But we’ll be going against traffic so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And we were thinking,” Haseejian picked up the thread as he handed Jeannie her cardboard cup of coffee, “Dan’ll drive you and Jeannie and I’ll ride shotgun with Steve.”

“What?!” came an obviously concerned voice from near the front door, where Steve was just about to leave with both his and Mike’s bags.

Haseejian looked over, grinning. “Well, we were figuring Mike might be more comfortable lying in the back seat of the LTD, and if I ride with you, than Jeannie can have the front seat to herself.. well, aside from Dan, of course.” He looked at Mike with raised eyebrows above a smug grin. “What do you think?”

Mike stared at his sergeant without expression for a long long second then looked at his partner, who had crossed back to the counter so he could see everyone. “Makes sense to me,” he said with a slight nod, trying to suppress a smile. He knew Steve was sometimes rather anal about who he invited into his beloved sports car, and the prospect of spending eight hours trapped in such a tiny space with the loquacious sergeant was downright terrifying.

Keeping his highly annoyed eyes on his partner, his voice unnaturally stilted and high-pitched, Steve said dryly, “Sure… sounds good.” He turned stiffly from the counter, picked up the bags and left the building.

Chuckling softly, Mike dropped his head. It hurt to laugh but for a couple of delicious moments, he didn’t care.

Fletcher approached the desk where Mike and Jeannie were sitting. He had an 8x10 inch manila envelope in his hand and he held it out. “I think you’ll need this.” Frowning, Mike took it. Fletcher smiled. “It’s everything you’ll need to give to your insurance company… for your car.” He nodded at the envelope. “There are Polaroids of the car from all angles, both from the scene and here in the impound yard, a copy of the accident report, and I put in a letter and report from me outlining the entire episode and my assertions that the ‘accident’ really wasn’t an accident and that you were in no way responsible.” He chuckled. “If they give you any grief, let me know and I’ll call them and… straighten them out.” He grinned with a wink.

Mike looked from the large envelope in his hand up to the CSP captain and smiled as if shell-shocked. “Ah, thank you… thank you very much. My car hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

“I’m not surprised,” Fletcher snorted with a chuckle. “And it’s my pleasure, believe me. It’s the least we can do, all things considered.”

Steve came back in and joined them for breakfast, all of them making small talk about the weather and the route home, trying to avoid lingering on the events of the last twenty-four hours for at least a few minutes. Someone had thoughtfully placed a large piece of cardboard over the bloodstain on the floor. Eventually, the San Francisco contingent and Fletcher and Collins made their way out the front door to the small parking lot where the LTD and the Porsche were sitting.

Steve shot a dark look at Haseejian, who was almost jumping out of his skin at the prospect of spending so many hours in the spiffy little sports car. As the sergeant approached the older model Porsche, he reached out and patted the roof, then looked at Steve with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “You, ah, you do know they nickname this little beauty ‘The Widowmaker’, right?”

Everyone looked at Steve quizzically. He shot another peeved glance in the Armenian sergeant’s direction then, ignoring everyone else, looked at his partner. “Some models exhibited what they call… well, turbo lag…”

Mike’s worried frown got even deeper. “What does that mean?”

With another angry glare at Haseejian, who continued to smile benignly, Steve cleared his throat. “Ah, sometimes the car will surge and change directions going into a corner…”

“What?!” This time the outburst was from Jeannie and he glanced in her direction with a subtle shrug then shook his head vigorously. 

“Mine’s never done that, I swear. It’s never showed any signs of doing that… but believe me I’m very aware of the possibility and I’ll be ready for it if it ever happens.”

“You hope,” Mike added forcefully.

Steve looked at him, bobbled his head with a soft, frustrated sigh and opened the driver’s door. He watched through narrowed eyes, growling almost imperceptibly, as Haseejian, chuckling under his breath, opened the other door, obviously anxious to get in and on the road.

“Ah, Mike,” Healey said quietly, and the lieutenant turned towards him. The sergeant was standing at the open back door of the LTD. “Ah, like we said, we were thinking you might be more comfortable lying on the back seat. What do you think?” He gestured inside the car and, frowning, Mike took a step closer and leaned down slightly to look in. There were three pillows stacked against the other door and a thick blanket folded up on the back seat.

Confused, Mike looked at Healey. “Where did you guys find the time to get pillows and a blanket?”

Chuckling, Haseejian took a step closer to his boss. “Ah, the, ah, the motel donated them…”

Mike raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Donated them?”

“Yeah… they just don’t know it yet…” Haseejian’s smile turned Cheshire Cat and Healey laughed.

“We just thought, with all the shit they put Steve and Jeannie through, it was the least they could do.”

His expression unreadable, Mike turned his head and looked at his partner. After a beat, he said with a nod, “Sounds good to me.” He looked at his daughter and smiled and she smiled back. He handed the envelope to Jeannie then turned to Fletcher, extending his right hand. “Captain.” They shook. “Thank you for everything. You guys are doing a hell of a job here,” he included Collins in an appreciative glance, “and I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for us already.”

Fletcher smiled. “It’s been our pleasure, Mike, believe me. It’s not very often we get to right a very, very big wrong, and bust a conspiracy wide open at the same time.”

“Well, I hope we didn’t leave you with too big a mess to clean up,” Mike added facetiously and the two CSP cops laughed. 

“Well, I’ve been thinking I might have to rent a house here for awhile… until we get all this behind us,” Fletcher chuckled. “But I’m glad things turned out like they did for you and your daughter.” He glanced in Steve’s direction and smiled. “That’s a helluva loyal, stubborn and… imaginative partner you’ve got there.”

Steve cleared his throat and looked down self-consciously at the roof of his car; Mike smiled softly to himself, glancing in the young man’s direction. “Yep,” he said with a quiet chuckle, “I only pick the best.”

Making a big show of it, Steve shot his sleeve and glanced at his watch. “We, ah, we better hit the road if we want to get home sometime today, right?” He was studiously avoiding looking at his partner, glaring at Healey as he nodded pointedly at the LTD.

Laughing, Mike looked at Fletcher again and winked. He turned to Collins and they shook hands, then Mike stepped closer to the LTD. Moving slowly and carefully, he got into the back seat, adjusting the pillows then holding his breath as he laid back against them. Safely down, he looked at the anxious Healey, who was watching him from the open door, and nodded. Healey slammed the door.

The others said their goodbyes and got into their respective cars, Haseejian with an unrestrained giggle as he lowered himself to crawl into the low-slung Porsche, Steve watching his every move.

Slowly, the two cars pulled out onto the street, heading towards Main and eventually out of town. Jeannie looked over the back of the seat at her father. “You going to be okay?” she asked, obviously worried.

He smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be just fine, don’t worry about me. Well, as long as Dan avoids any potholes… and if I remember correctly there are quite a few on that road through the park, right?”

Nodding, Jeannie looked at Healey. “He’s right, there are.”

The sergeant chuckled. “That’s why I’m following Steve. If there are any big, axle-busting potholes, he’ll hit ‘em first, and that way I can avoid them.”

“Yeah,” Mike chuckled, “as long as Norm doesn’t talk him into demonstrating just how much horsepower that little car has.”

Healey laughed. “Oh, I’m not expecting him to do that until we reach the interstate.”

All three of them laughed. Jeannie continued to look into the back seat at her father, almost reluctant to take her eyes off him. Eventually their smiles disappeared, and she raised herself up high enough so she could reach towards him. Trying not to grimace he raised his left hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. Biting her bottom lip, she stared into his warm and loving blue eyes, both of them acknowledging how much they had already been through, and just how far they still had to go.


	37. Chapter 37

“How you doing back there, Mike?” Jeannie asked as she looked over the back of the seat.

Her father was laying propped up against the pillows, his eyes closed. She’d been glancing at him constantly; it looked like he had fallen asleep. But when he reached for the blanket folded up on the centre hump in the floor, she caught the movement peripherally and turned her head.

Behind the wheel, Healey smiled to himself, tossing a quick glance in her direction. 

Mike opened his eyes and smiled. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little chilly, that’s all.” He started to drag the blanket up over his stomach, trying to find a corner so he could unfold it. She quickly scrambled to kneel on the front seat so she could lean over between the headrests and give him a hand.

“I can turn the heat on if you want?” Healey offered, trying to see the lieutenant in the rearview mirror.

“No, that’s okay, Dan, the blanket’ll be fine. Thanks anyway.”

With Jeannie’s help, the blanket was unfolded and Mike pulled it up over his chest. He was lying on an angle in the back seat, his lower legs in the well. As he pulled the blanket up, he raised his legs, putting his feet on the seat against the door and resting his knees against the seat, and turned his upper body slightly towards the back. With a reassuring smile at his daughter, he let his head sink into the pillows and closed his eyes again.

Her anxious smile fading away, she turned and slid down onto the front seat again. Healey looked over, frowning. “How’s he doing?” he asked softly.

She looked at him from under lowered brows, obviously worried. “I’m not sure. I think he’s in more pain than he’s letting on… but that’s nothing new,” she rolled her eyes, trying to control her growing anger at her father’s stubbornness. 

“Well, we’ll be able to make good time once we hit the interstate,” Healey responded with a encouraging nod, his eyes glued to the back of the Porsche ahead of them. “We’ll get him home, don’t worry.”

She threw him a grateful smile.

An easy silence filled the cab of the large sedan. Healey shot a quick glance across the seat. “Ah, have you always called him Mike?” he asked with a gentle chuckle.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Uh, yeah… for as long as I can remember, actually. I think I started calling him Mike instead of Daddy when I was about seven or eight…”

“And he didn’t correct you?”

With a short laugh, she shook her head. “No… I think he thought it was funny. His cop friends would come over when my parents had parties and my dad had the occasional poker game and that kinda stuff, and they’d all call him Mike - and my mom called him Mike - so I just started to do it and… it stuck, I guess. I never thought about it much till one of my friends asked me about it when I was in high school. By then I’d been doing it so long it just seemed natural.”

Healey was chuckling quietly. “If I’da called my Dad by his first name, he woulda knocked me into tomorrow. Times sure have changed.” He looked across the seat with a warm smile.

She smiled back. “Well, Mike’s always been a little… different from most of the fathers I’ve known, my friends’ fathers. He’s been pretty… chill about things… all my life.”

The sergeant frowned. “Chill? Mike Stone? The guy in the back seat?” He jerked his right thumb over his shoulder.

She started to chuckle. “I know you won’t believe me but he’s a different guy when he’s not in the office.”

Healey grinned. “I’m pulling your leg. To be honest, Jeannie, he’s the most fair and honest superior officer I’ve ever worked under. The guys trust and like him, and he trusts and likes them back, and in our business, that’s two of the most important things.”

She bit her bottom lip, pleasantly surprised by the spontaneous and unexpected declaration. 

“You now, a few years ago, after your mom died,” he said quietly, “we all thought we’d lost him…. He seemed to… I don’t know… drift for awhile there, like the wind had been taken out of his sails. A lot of us thought he was going to pack it in, take the captaincy they’d been dangling in front of him… or walk away altogether.”

She was staring at his profile, hanging on his every word.

Healey paused briefly then raised his right forefinger and pointed through the windshield. “And then that young man up there walked into his life…” He looked across the front seat and a small but very warm smile softened his features. “And I don’t think I have to tell you how that’s going, do I?” he asked rhetorically with a gentle chuckle.

The back of her throat tightening and her eyes filling with tears, she nodded.

# # # # #

“This is a sweet piece of machinery,” Haseeian said admiringly, running his hands over the teakwood dashboard.

Trying very hard to hide his grin, Steve nodded behind the dark glasses. “Yes, it is.”

“I’ve always been meaning to ask… where the hell did you find this little beauty?”

Glancing into the rearview mirror, unnecessarily making sure for the thousandth time that the LTD was still behind them, the younger man chuckled. “Well, it’s not a very interesting story, Norm, but I’ll tell you, if you want.”

“Hey, I’m a captive audience. If it gets too boring, I can always fall asleep,” the Armenian sergeant chuckled amicably. 

“All right,” Steve laughed. 

A comfortable warmth filled the inside of the small sports car. Steve knew exactly what his colleague was attempting to do, trying to take his mind off his injured partner and the long road home, and he loved him for it.

“Well, it happened while I was at Berkeley,” he began conversationally.

“Not surprising,” Haseejian interjected with a deep chuckle.

Steve froze for a brief second then continued without comment. “I was dating this girl who, shall I say, came from money… which I definitely did not. So one night I was invited to her parents mansion for dinner -“

“Whoa… that must have been… interesting…”

“Yes, it was,” Steve admitted slowly, bobbing his eyebrows but offering no further details, “and daddy and I started talking about cars, which seemed to be the only thing we had in common. I was driving an old beater, of course, just happy it could get me from A to B. He was driving a ’63 Aston Martin DB5 -“

“James Bond’s car?”

Steve laughed. “The very same. Even the same silver colour.”

“Jeez…”

“Yeah, that was his everyday car, believe it or not but, he told me on the sly, he had a little beauty in one of his garages that he wanted to show me.”

Haseejian ran his hands over the teak dash again. “This little beauty?”

Steve nodded. “Yep. Turns out he bought it when he was going through a mid-life crisis but because it was so powerful, it scared the hell out of his wife so she eventually made him park it in the garage and wouldn’t let him drive it anymore. That’s when he got the Aston Martin.”

“So this was just sitting in his garage?”

“Yep, that’s why it doesn’t have that many miles on it… or at least it didn’t before I got my hands on it.”

“And he let you have it?”

“Well, if you mean he gave it to me - no. He didn’t become a rich man by being overly generous. But he sold it to me.”

Haseejian frowned. “But you keep saying you’ll be paying it off till you retire…”

Steve was nodding slowly. “Yep. I went to my bank and managed to talk the manager into letting me take out a loan… so I’m paying off the bank… slowly… like a mortgage…” He chuckled and the sergeant joined him. He looked into the rearview mirror again, an action not lost on his colleague.

Haseejian cleared his throat softly. “He’s gonna be all right… don’t worry.”

Swallowing self-consciously, the younger man’s eyes snapped briefly across the front seat. He tilted his head and sighed heavily. “It’s a long trip… I wish we could just snap our fingers and be there…”

Haseejian smiled sadly. “Yeah, that’d be a big help, wouldn’t it? We’ll be able to make better time when we hit the interstate.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

The sergeant studied the younger man for a long beat then asked quietly, “How’s Jeannie holding up?”

Steve looked across the front seat again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wish I knew, Norm. I know she’s putting on a brave face, for Mike, but she’s hurting, I know she is. She came so close to being… you know…. If Mike hadn’t gotten there when he did…” He clenched his teeth.

Haseejian was nodding slowly, looking at his hands in his lap. “Look, ah, I know there’s not much we can do, Dan and I, but… well, you know, if there is anything - and I mean anything, Steve …”

Pulling his gaze from the road ahead, the younger man looked at his colleague and smiled warmly. “Thanks, Norm… that means a lot.”

The sergeant smiled back. “Anytime… for Mike, for you… anytime…”

Both of them looked out the windshield, at the trees whipping by on both sides of the road, and a comfortable silence filled the car.

# # # # #

It was just after noon and they had been flying down the 40 towards the 5 when Steve put the turn signal on and they left the highway. The truck stop had a gas station and a large diner. He pulled up to one of the pumps; the LTD slid to a stop at the pump behind it. 

Steve and Dan got out as the station attendant approached; they both asked for top-ups. Haseejian slowly emerged from the Porsche, stretching and yawning.

Jeannie turned and leaned over the seat in the LTD. The blanket over him, Mike was still facing away, his eyes closed; he looked asleep. Almost reluctant to disturb him, she reached down and gently laid a hand on his arm. “Mike…” He didn’t react and she shook him slightly. 

With a slight groan, he moved his head a bit. 

“Mike,” she said quietly again.

He opened his eyes and his head turned slowly in her direction. He was frowning slightly. She smiled. “We’re at a truck stop. It’s lunchtime. I think you should get something to eat and use the restroom. What do you think?”

He blinked at her a couple of times, as if he didn’t understand, then he cleared his throat and nodded, starting to push the blanket away. She grabbed the blanket and gave him a hand. As he began to push himself up, he stopped suddenly, wincing.

“Are you okay?” She was frowning with worry.

He looked at her and nodded. “Just got to be careful, that’s all.”

The back right door opened and Steve stuck his head in, glancing at Jeannie. “How are you doing?” he asked his partner.

Mike smiled as best he could. “So far, so good.”

Chuckling, Steve reached out and pulled the rest of the blanket off, pulling it out of the car as Mike made his way slowly and carefully across the seat. Jeannie got out and took the blanket as Steve helped Mike to his feet, then held on while the older man steadied himself. Jeannie tossed the blanket on the front seat and closed the door. 

Haseejian had drifted over, a big smile lighting his face. “Come on, Mike,” he said with a warm chuckle as he stepped between the lieutenant and his daughter, “let me escort you two to the diner.” He extended his elbow towards Jeannie, who took it with a grin; she raised her eyebrows at her father.

“Why thank you, Sergeant,” she giggled as they started off slowly, Mike following a half-beat behind with a smile and a head shake. He turned to look at his partner.

“You guys coming?”

“We’ll be there in a minute,” Steve assured him, glancing at the young man filling the tank. As Mike moved off, he looked at Healey, and they grinned at each other.


	38. Chapter 38

When the Porsche didn’t get off the 101 at Army Street just south of Potrero, Healey glanced at Jeannie then in the rearview mirror. Mike, who had been sitting up for the past hour or so leaning back on the pillows stacked against the door, had closed his eyes and hadn’t seemed to notice. Jeannie, who had looked into the back seat as well, nodded at the Irish sergeant with a relieved smile.

The driver of the spiffy little sports car found a parking space about a block away from their destination and pulled in, its two occupants getting out quickly. Haseejian was already digging into his pants pocket for change to feed the meter while Steve sprinted down the block to catch up to the unmarked sedan.

The LTD swung into the Emergency entrance of Franklin Hospital and slowed to a smooth stop. As he had already arranged with Jeannie, Healey got out quickly and disappeared inside. She turned around in the seat, keeping an eye on her father, who seemed to be deeply asleep. 

The right side back door opened and Steve stuck his head in, glancing at Jeannie. He leaned further into the back seat, reaching out to put a hand on his partner’s knee and shaking him gently. “Mike…” There was no response. He shook a little harder. With a soft groan, Mike’s head moved slightly but he didn’t open his eyes. “Mike, can you hear me?” There was another groan, his head moved again but the eyes still didn’t open. Jeannie looked at Steve in alarm.

Hearing what sounded like a gurney approaching, Steve backed out of the car and looked over the roof. Healey and two orderlies with a collapsible stretcher were coming towards the car. Steve pointed at the other back door. “He’s not going to be able to get out on his own,” he said quickly. “I’ll hold him so you can open the door and you can get him out that way.”

Healey nodded as he and the orderlies approached the other back door; they lowered the stretcher so it was the same height as the back seat. Steve crawled into the car, relieved that Mike as sitting up, which allowed him more room to maneuver. “Okay, I’m just gonna move you a bit here so they can get the door open and we can get you out,” he whispered calmly as he knelt on the seat and carefully slid both arms around his partner, trying to avoid the broken ribs, and pulled him away from the door. 

Jeannie, who was watching worriedly, yelled, “Okay, Dan,” through the open driver’s door window and the back door swung open. Healey grabbed the pillows and lifted them out of the way; the orderlies reached for the injured man as Steve released his hold and they lowered Mike onto the stretcher, being careful to avoid putting any pressure on the left side of his chest, and pulled him out of the car. Then, with a smooth and calm urgency, they started towards the hospital doors. 

Steve and Jeannie scrambled out of the car to follow. “I’ll go park the car and be right in,” Healey called after them as Haseejian came jogging up.

Passing a very busy waiting room, the stretcher was wheeled towards an examination cubicle. Jeannie and Steve followed anxiously, both of them unable to tear their eyes from Mike, who was finally showing signs of coming around. A woman in a nurse’s uniform caught Jeannie’s attention and gestured towards the admissions desk.

With a worried frown, Jeannie stopped and looked at Steve. “I’ll stay with him,” he raised his voice slightly, “you sign him him.” He continued to trail the stretcher. 

Nodding uncertainly, with another frightened glance in her father’s direction, she followed the woman to the desk. 

The stretcher was pulled to a stop in the centre of the cubicle then raised to its full height. As one of the orderlies pulled the privacy curtain closed, a tall young blond man in a white coat and a stethoscope slung around his neck, hurried into the cubicle. He looked at Steve with a combination frown and smile. “So what have we got here?” he asked quickly, already beginning to visually scan his patient.

# # # # #

Sitting in the chair in front of the admissions desk, Jeannie glanced over her shoulder; Healey was hovering nearby. He shot her an encouraging smile. She finished providing all the information she was capable of and got slowly to her feet, crossing to the sergeant as if in a trance. “They, ah, they only allow one person in the examination room with the patient…” she said softly, the worry so evident in her voice. “Steve’s in there with him…”

“Mike’ll be okay,” Healey whispered, leaning close and putting a hand on her elbow. “Ah, let’s have a seat. Norm commandeered some chairs for us…” He gestured with his chin towards the waiting room and Haseejian waved at them from the far side. He lowered his head close to her ear and whispered, “He’s good at that; it’s one of his limited talents.” He chuckled and was pleased to see a brief smile wash over her face.

They had just sat when Steve suddenly appeared. He looked relieved as he locked eyes with Jeannie. “He’s awake and talking to the doctor and they’re just about to take him to x-ray, so you can relax,” he said quickly, smiling reassuringly.

Haseejian had gotten up and snagged a fourth chair, dragging it closer and pushing it behind Steve’s knees. He sat, facing Jeannie, than glanced at the others. “He’s a little pissed that we came straight here before stopping at his house…” he chuckled, “but he’ll get over it. Besides, I told him I wouldn’t’ve allowed him to climb all those steps anyway so It was a moot point.”

The men chuckled; Jeannie still hadn’t relaxed enough for that yet. The sight of her unresponsive father being pulled from the car had rattled her deeply.

Steve patted her knee. “The doctor - Baldwin is his name and he looks about twelve,” he shook his head in wonder, “said he’d come out and talk to us when he knows what’s going on but it’s going to take a little while so we should, and I quote, relax.”

Nodding, Healey sat back. “Well, ah, how about Norm and I go and get us some coffees?”

Steve nodded. Jeannie finally found a slightly relieved smile. “Yeah, that’d be great.” The two sergeants got to their feet and started for the glass doors. “Ah, the cafeteria is that way,” she said, pointing in the other direction.

Haseejian smiled and Healey chuckled, shaking his head. “Cafeteria coffee? Ewwww.” He grinned. “Norm and I know this little place just down the block. You’ll thank us for it, believe me.” With a wink, he headed off, the Armenian sergeant, still beaming, falling into step behind him.

Jeannie looked at Steve and shrugged. He chuckled. “Those two are even better than Mike and me at finding the best places to eat in this town, believe me.”

At the mention of her father, her smile wavered and he slipped onto the chair beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “He’s gonna be fine.”

# # # # #

They were halfway through their cups of the delicious dark roast when a young blond doctor appeared at the hallway end of the waiting room, scanning the crowd. He spotted Steve and started over. They got to their feet. Steve introduced Jeannie as the sergeants took a step back to allow them their privacy.

“Miss Stone,” Doctor Baldwin nodded, shaking her hand. “Okay, so, we’ve taken an x-ray of your dad’s chest and, yes, he does have two broken ribs and a third one is cracked. And the other doctor,” he glanced at Steve, “was right, there is a partial collapse of the lower lobe of his left lung. But don’t worry, he doesn’t need an operation. What we’re going to do is remove the air, which is what’s causing the collapse, with a needle and a syringe -“ Both young people winced and Baldwin paused, tilting his head with a slight grimace. “Yeah, unfortunately it’s as painful as it sounds, so we’re going to sedate him before we do it - he doesn’t need any more discomfort so we’ll make sure he doesn’t feel a thing.”

Steve had reached for Jeannie’s hand and he squeezed it tightly. 

“He might need a chest tube or he might not, we won’t know that till we do the procedure but, regardless, he’s going to be spending the night with us, most likely under sedation, and we’ll decide tomorrow when he can go home.” He smiled at them encouragingly. “Any questions?”

“Will he be okay?” Jeannie asked quickly, her startling blue eyes boring anxiously into the doctor’s.

Baldwin nodded. “He’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as it sounds, really. He’ll need to have complete rest for a few days and be careful for several weeks after that but he should make a full recovery.”

Nodding, Steve asked, “Ah, what about the bullet wound..?”

“Oh, yeah, I had a look at that, and checked the x-ray, and it looks fine. I took what was left of the stitches out. Whoever removed the bullet did a great job and he’ll have a minimal scar and no lasting effects. He was lucky.” He grinned at them both. “So, ah, how does all that sound?”

Jeannie exhaled loudly. “A lot better than I was expecting.” She looked at Steve, obviously relieved, and squeezed his hand then looked back at the doctor again. “Can I see him?”

“Well, we’re going to take him to his room in a few minutes and do the procedure there. We don’t need to do it in an operating room. So you can see him after that, if that’s all right? It’s an easy procedure and it shouldn’t take longer than an hour at the most… but we’re probably going to keep him sedated for the night, for his comfort.”

Jeannie looked down, her focus suddenly far away. “Okay…” she said softly, “okay, well, I’d like to see him anyway… we can wait…”

Steve nodded at the doctor. “Sure, just let us know, we’re not going to go anywhere.”

“All right then.” Baldwin nodded in return, slapped Steve’s arm lightly then turned and started back across the waiting room.

Healey and Haseejian, who had hovered close enough to hear what had been discussed, joined them again. Steve looked at them with a relieved exhale. “Ah, listen, fellas, ah, I can wait here with Jeannie and take her home afterwards. We can get the stuff out of your car tomorrow -” he suggested and Haseejian cut him off sharply.

“Are you nuts? We’re not going anywhere. We’re in this just as much as you two.” 

Jeannie’s head snapped up and she frowned at him, surprised by the fierceness of his tone, then realized he was just as concerned as she and Steve were. She smiled at him warmly, putting a hand lightly on his forearm. “Thank you,” she whispered, and Haseejian grinned. Behind him, Healey winked.

# # # # #

Steve pushed the door open and Jeannie preceded him into the room. Mike was lying flat, his head on a thin pillow between the upraised railings. A beige flannel blanket was pulled up to his waist. The deep purple bruise was still visible around the white tape that now covered the broken ribs on the left side of his chest, an ugly manifestation of the nightmare father and daughter had been forced to endure.

Jeannie picked up his right hand and held it in both of hers then leaned over the bed and kissed his cheek. Steve stepped beside her and put an arm around her shoulders as he looked at his sedated partner.

While Jeannie stared at her father, Steve looked at her. Though her wounds weren’t as obvious, he thought, they were just as deep. And it would be a long time, he knew, before they would heal, if they ever would.

But no matter how long it took, he vowed, he would be there for both of them.


	39. Chapter 39

The Porsche pulled into an available spot across the street from the De Haro house. It was well after dark and there was a chill in the air as the two weary passengers slowly emerged. Steve reached behind the front seat and pulled his flight bag out, dropping it to the pavement so he could open the hood. Jeannie grimaced as she pulled out one of the duffle bags that had been crammed into the small space, throwing an amused scowl in Steve’s direction as she did so.

He chuckled. “You look like your father when you do that. He’s always on my case about the trunk space, or lack thereof, as well.”

She laughed softly, handing him the bag. “I’m not surprised. He’s always been a big ‘substance before style’ kinda guy; that’s why we had a Falcon.” She dragged the other bag out of the trunk and he slammed the lid. They started towards the house.

“Which reminds me,” Steve mused, “we’re gonna have to borrow one of the department’s cars to bring Mike home; we won’t get all three of us in that.” He nodded over his shoulder towards the Porsche. 

“Oooo, that’s true,” she nodded. “Can you do that, just borrow a car if you’re not on duty?”

“Well, we’re not supposed to, but I don’t know anybody who’d object.”

He dropped behind slightly to let her start up the stairs ahead of him. When they got to the landing, they dropped all the bags as Jeannie dug the house keys out of her pants pocket. As she opened the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “We don’t have much to eat in the house but I think we have some cans of soup.”

Dinner had consisted of potato chips and chocolate bars from the vending machines in the hospital waiting room.

She opened the door, picked up the duffle and stepped into the house, Steve right behind her with the other bags. “That sounds perfect. I’d eat anything right about now,” he chuckled as he shut the door then crossed deeper into the living room, leaving the duffle near the stairs and putting his own bag on the coffee table.

She let the duffle she was carrying slip to the floor near the stairs and turned to look at him. He stared back expressionlessly then he smiled softly and warmly. She returned the look then moved to him slowly and slipped her arms around his waist. He pulled her into his chest, one hand on the back of her head. 

“I’m so glad he going to be okay,” she whispered and he could feel her start to shake, knowing she was crying. He rocked her gently.

“Me too…”

They held each other for several long seconds then she pulled away, turning towards the stairs without looking at him. She picked up the two duffle bags and started to drag them up the stairs. He took a couple of quick strides towards her. “Here, let me -“

“No, I’ve got it!” she said sharply, continuing up the steps without looking back. When she got to the landing, he heard her call down, “I’m going to do a washing. Can you look for the soup and put it on, please?”

He hesitated for a second, surprised by her sudden change of tone, then nodded to himself. “Uh, yeah, sure… I can do that.” He turned and headed for the kitchen, glancing at his flight bag on the coffee table as he did so. They had already come to the mutually agreed upon decision that he would be spending the night for sure, and possibly more depending on how mobile Mike would be when he got home.

Familiar with the layout of the Stone kitchen, he knew exactly where Mike kept his canned goods. There were about a half dozen soups and he chose the chicken noodle; for some reason it just seemed appropriate.

He could hear her milling around upstairs and he sighed heavily. He knew the next few days were going to be some of the most pivotal in her young life, as her fear for her father lessened and she finally came to grips with what she had been through. He wasn’t sure if he was the person she needed at this point and he was wracking his brain trying to come up with someone who was more suited to her needs. He had a couple of ideas; now he just needed to find the opportunity to make a couple of private phone calls.

He was emptying the can of noodles and broth into the saucepan when she came into the kitchen with a overflowing laundry basket in both hands, heading for the basement. She had changed out of the clothes she had been wearing all day and smiled at him as she crossed the tile floor. “It’s nice to wear clothes that don’t smell of fish,” she chuckled.

He grinned at her and nodded.

She sniffed the air as she got to the basement door. “Oooo, chicken noodle. Good choice.” She shifted the basket slightly so she could open the door and turn on the light then disappeared down the steps.

He was setting the table when she reappeared. She stood in the doorway and surveyed the kitchen. “You seem to have everything under control,” she chuckled. “Do you mind if I take a shower before we eat? I still smell like fish too.”

He laughed, taking a step closer to the stove and turning the temperature on the element down. “Sure, no rush. Take your time.”

“Thanks,” she said softly as she moved past him and through the living room towards the stairs.

He watched her go, then stepped into the living room and freezing. He cocked his head, listening and waiting. After a couple of minutes, he heard her go into the bathroom and close the door and he bolted for the phone on the wall in the kitchen. 

He dialled a very familiar number. “Bill? Yeah, it’s Steve…. Yeah, we’re okay. I’ll explain everything tomorrow - I don’t have time right now. Listen, I need a favour and I need it fast…. Yeah, I need a phone number…”

# # # # #

They ate the soup in relative silence, both of them exhausted in mind and body. The anticipation of a good night’s sleep in comfortably familiar surroundings was more of an enticing and soothing prospect than they’d realized. 

She tilted her bowl to try to get the last of the tasty broth onto her spoon, looking at Steve from under a lowered brow. “I still think you should sleep in Mike’s bed tonight. He’s not using it.”

Steve smiled; it was conversation they’d had already. “Because, like I said, he’ll probably be home tomorrow and there’s no point having me use it tonight and then having to change the sheets for tomorrow.”

She scowled at him. “We don’t need to change the sheets ; it’d only be for one night and I don’t think you’ve got a communicable disease or anything like that, do you? Believe me, Mike won’t mind -“

He was shaking his head. “I don’t care if he doesn’t mind, I do. The couch is just fine, I’ve slept on it many a night already.”

Shaking her head as well, she got up from the table and put her empty bowl in the sink. She walked to the basement door and paused, listening, then headed down the stairs. When she came back up, Steve had cleared the table, stacked the dishes in the sink, and was wiping the counter. “I’m going to bed,” she said. “The laundry’s in the dryer and I’ll just leave it there overnight.” She paused and stared at him so long he began to shift uncomfortably. “Thank you…” she said softly, as if she was unsure about the strength of her voice. And he knew she wasn’t just thanking him for preparing dinner.

He smiled at her warmly. “You’re welcome.”

As she walked past him towards the living room, she touched his arm gently. He watched as she disappeared up the stairs. He sighed sadly. What was supposed to have been a relaxing week for a man who needed time to deal with a devastating personal tragedy, and a daughter who knew instinctively what needed to be done to help him, had turned into an ordeal he wouldn’t have wished on his worst enemy. 

And in so many ways he felt helpless.

He turned off the kitchen light and wandered back into the living room. A sheet, a heavy blanket and two pillows were already stacked on one end of the couch. As he started to unfold the sheet, he turned the TV on. He had no intention of watching but he needed the background noise of a mindless program to let his mind wander.

It had been a stressful few days, mentally and emotionally. And though things seemed to be winding down, with Mike recovering in the hospital, at least for one night, and Jeannie safe up her room, he knew there was still a lot of healing left to do.

He finished making the bed on the couch and reached into his flight bag for his toiletry bag then started for the stairs. He smiled as he closed the bathroom door; Jeannie had set out a small hand towel and facecloth for him. 

Finished, his teeth and face now freshly scrubbed, he opened the bathroom door and turned off the light. He had only taken a couple of steps before he heard it: a soft, muffled sob. He knew immediately what it was. 

Putting the toiletry bag on the bathroom counter, he turned quickly and padded softly to Jeannie’s closed door, pausing to listen again. After a long beat of silence, he heard another sob. Biting his lip in consternation, he raised his right fist to knock then stopped himself, suddenly unsure if he should intrude on her privacy. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply and silently, torn as to what to do. 

Then, without hesitation, he grabbed the knob and opened the door. She was sitting on her bed, in her pajamas, her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around her legs. Her head was down, her entire body heaving with the sobs that shook him to his core. 

In one long stride he stepped to the bed and slid onto it beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her quickly into his arms. Unresisting, she leaned into him, her whole body continuing to shake as she released some the heartache that had accumulated over the past week. 

He had no idea how long they sat there, silently, as he continued to rock her until the sobs began to recede and her taut muscles began to relax. Eventually he realized she was almost overcome with exhaustion and he lowered her head to the pillows, then slid off the bed and pulled the blankets up to cover her. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be deeply asleep.

He watched her for several long moments until he was certain she was going to be all right then quietly crossed the room, looking back at her as he turned off the light and closed the door. He picked up his toiletry bag from the bathroom counter and returned to the first floor. Tossing the bag on the coffee table, he sat heavily on the couch, fighting his own emotional exhaustion. He felt like his heart was being torn apart in a thousand different ways.

Eventually he got up, crossed to the TV and turned it off. He changed into his pajama bottoms and t-shirt, turned off the lamp and crawled into the cocoon of sheets and blankets on the couch. 

As tired as he was, it took him more than an hour to finally fall asleep.


	40. Chapter 40

It was a bright, warm and sunny morning, and he swung the forest green Galaxie to the curb with a grateful smile, pocketing the keys as he sprinted across the street and took the steps two at a time. He opened the front door quietly, freezing when the smell of fresh coffee and warm oatmeal assaulted his senses in the best possible way. He closed the door with a confused but pleased smile and crossed to the kitchen entrance.

Jeannie was standing at the stove and she greeted him with a warm smile. “I was wondering where you disappeared to so early.”

As Steve shrugged out of his jacket, he stepped deeper into the kitchen. “I went to the Hall to get a car.” He dropped the jacket on the back of a chair.

She frowned as she took a mug out of an upper cupboard and picked up the percolator. “But we’re not sure they’re going to let Mike out today…”

He smiled. “I know. But I’m feeling optimistic.”

She chuckled. “Your lips…” she whispered as she poured the strong black coffee into the cup. “I made us some oatmeal.” 

“I see that. It smells great. I love oatmeal.” He circled her to the sink, rolling up his sleeves to wash his hands. She put the cup of coffee on the table then pulled the bowls on the counter closer to the stove and picked up the saucepan.

As he reached for the towel on the stove rack, he glanced at his watch. “Visiting hours start in a half hour.”

She smiled. “We’ll get there on time.” 

He watched her as he dropped into a chair and she put the bowls of steaming oatmeal on the table then sat, reaching for the milk carton. She studiously avoided meeting his eyes, and he knew she wasn’t about to mention what had happened the night before. Nodding to himself, he picked up the bowl of brown sugar, more than content to let her lead the way for now when it came to how she wanted to handle the crisis she was going through.

# # # # #

She pushed the heavy wooden door open almost hesitantly, her eyes widening with joy when she saw her father staring at her from the upraised bed, a smile lighting his entire face. “I was hoping it was you two,” he chuckled as she moved deeper into the room, a grinning and very relieved Steve on her heels.

“Oh, Daddy, you look so much better,” she gushed as she got closer to the bed, putting the overnight bag she had been carrying on the floor as she leaned over him and gave him a kiss. “How are you feeling?” Steve asked.

Mike looked at him as he took his daughter’s hand. “Not too bad actually. I’m still sore, especially where they put that needle in,” he grimaced as he gestured vaguely at his left side, “and they told me to expect that for the next few days, but they’ve given me some Tylenol and it’s not too bad right now.” He pulled the front of the hospital gown down slightly with his other hand. “I’m all taped up and they want me to leave it on for the next few days.” He smiled at his daughter. “But… they said I can go home.”

“This morning?” she asked excitedly.

“Uhm-humh,” he nodded, “I just have to wait to be discharged. Dr. Baldwin said he’d be back in a bit with the paperwork.”

Jeannie glanced over her shoulder at Steve and shook her head with a happy chuckle. “You were right.”

Steve nodded with a grin. “Umh-humh.”

Mike looked at both of them with a curious frown. “What’s that all about?”

His daughter laughed. “Steve went to the office first thing this morning to borrow a bigger car ‘cause he said he was sure they were going to let you out.”

“And you didn’t think so? Don’t you want me to get out?” Mike asked facetiously, his brow furrowing even more in amused skepticism.

“Of course I want you to get out,” she laughed happily. “I just thought, with the luck we’ve been having lately, that they were going to keep you in a lot longer.”

“Well,” Mike said softly, “I kinda think our luck started to turn around when Steve tracked us down in Eldred… don’t you?” He looked at his daughter expectantly.

She stared at him for a long second then nodded almost imperceptibly. She turned to look at the younger man standing behind her and smiled at him warmly. She reached back with her free hand and touched his arm. “I’m really glad you were right.”

He laughed. “So am I.”

“So am I,” Mike added, chuckling. He pulled his daughter closer and gave her a kiss then looked at his partner. “So, Swami, did you see far enough into the future to bring me a change of clothes?”

Laughing, Steve bent down and picked up the overnight bag, waving it in the air. “Ta-da! And even better, they don’t smell of fish.” 

Mike laughed, then let go of Jeannie and pressed his right hand against his chest, wincing slightly.

She frowned worriedly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Still smiling, he nodded. “Umh-humh. Don’t worry, the tape and the drugs are working wonders. I’ve just got to be careful for awhile, that’s all.” He stared at her as if waiting for a rebuttal. She stared at him fiercely for a long beat then looked away with a capitulating sigh. He reached out and gently took her hand again. “Sweetheart, you could do me a big favor by trying to find Dr. Baldwin for me and asking him when I can get leave. And maybe get the paperwork? And while you’re gone, Steve can help me get changed.” He glanced at the younger man expectantly and Steve nodded. “What do you say?”

She stared at him for a beat longer then nodded once. “Okay, I’ll go find him.

“Thank you,” he said warmly, bringing her hand to his lips for a soft kiss before letting her go. They both watched her leave.

Chuckling softly, Steve studied the older man. “How are you feeling, really?”

Mike looked at him from under raised brows. “Really, I’m feeling pretty good. And I wasn’t just saying that for Jeannie’s sake.” He ran his right hand over the left side of his chest. “The tape really helps… and the Tylenol. But I want to go home…”

Steve smiled warmly. “Yeah, I bet you do. Okay, well, let’s get you dressed.”

# # # # #

They had arrived back at the De Haro house just before noon. Mike had taken his time climbing the steps, finally crossing the threshold into his living room with a relieved and heartfelt sigh. He stood just inside the door and looked slowly around the room, grateful to be home, well aware that if Captain Hogan’s plan had worked, he might never have seen this room again, at least not for a long, long time.

True to the promise made to his daughter when they left the hospital, and without a contentious word, Mike started up the stairs to the second floor, Steve in tow. “I’ll make us some lunch and bring it up as soon as I can,” Jeannie called after them as they disappeared into Mike’s bedroom.

Steve pushed the door closed behind him as Mike crossed to the bed. The older man turned around with a frown. “I appreciate the concern, but if I take my time I’m quite capable of getting into my pajamas and getting into bed on my own.”

With a soft smile, Steve chuckled. “I know… but that’s not why I’m here.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door then gestured at the bed with his chin. “Have a seat for a second.”

Worried, Mike lowered himself to the bed. “What’s going on?”

Steve took a few steps closer. “Listen, uh, I don’t know if you’re aware of it or not, but Jeannie’s having a hard time coming to grips with what happened last week… to you and to her… especially what happened at the gas station. I mean not only was she almost raped… but she saw you getting shot. And then everything that happened after that - the accident and both of you getting charged with the murder…” He shrugged slightly with a worried sigh.

Mike had lowered his head and he was nodding slowly. “I know… but I haven’t been in a position to help her…” he said softly. He looked up, his expression almost distraught. “And I don’t know what to do to help her…”

Steve stepped to the bed and sat beside his partner. “I know. I feel the same way. I want to help but I don’t really know how. But I have an idea… and I want to know what you think…”

# # # # #

Mike was in his pajamas and lying in the bed when Jeannie pushed the door open with her foot and entered with a large serving tray. “Lunch is served,” she announced as she crossed to one of the TV trays she’s ordered Steve to set up, and put the tray down. She glanced up at her father. “There’s no food in the house so Steve and I are going to go to the grocery store this afternoon while you take a nap,” she emphasized the last two words and punctuated them with a glare.

Mike pulled back slightly with a comical flinch. “Duly noted,” he said with feigned gravity, and Steve chuckled. 

She looked at Steve. “Did you find the bed tray?”

He reached down beside the bedtable and picked it up. “Right here,” he announced as he unfolded the legs and set it on the bed over its occupant.

Jeannie picked up one of the bowls of soup and put it on the tray, then handed her father a spoon. “All we have in the house is soup.” She sounded almost accusatory and Mike pretended to cower even more.

“Soup’s fine,” he said in a small voice and both father and daughter could hear Steve sniggering behind them. Her head snapped around to glare at him then caught herself and laughed. She looked at her father apologetically. 

“I’m sorry… I’m just worried about you,” she said softly, sitting on the side of the bed.

Mike put the spoon down and stared at her with a warm smile. “I know you are, sweetheart, and I appreciate that. And I promise I will do what the doctor wants and get lots of rest in the next couple of days.” He picked up her hand. “Now what can I do for you?”

Steve felt the back of his throat constrict as he watched Jeannie stare at her father silently for a couple of long seconds then she smiled sadly. “I’m okay, Daddy, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

Her lips pressed together, she smiled. “Umh-humh.”

He stared at her again, knowing that she was trying to reassure him, and he played along, though he knew better. “Okay,” he said softly, squeezing her hand and then letting it go. 

She moved to one of the chairs and TV tables Steve had set up; he had already set out her bowl, spoon and napkin. She glanced at him gratefully as she sat, and they started to eat in silence. Eventually she said, “So, if we can get back from the store with enough time, are you two in the mood for a nice pot roast dinner?”

Mike’s eyes lit up and he turned to his daughter so fast he almost spilled the soup in the spoon that was halfway to his mouth. “Do you… feel up to it?” he asked hopefully.

She smiled. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t feel up to it.”

Mike looked from his daughter to his partner and back again, looking for all the world like a kid in a candy store. “You won’t get an argument from me.”  
“Me neither,” Steve concurred with a nod.

With a smile of her own, Jeannie looked down at the bowl on the tray in front of her. Mike’s eyes found his partner’s and narrowed with worry. He felt powerless to help his only child through the atrocity she was now forced to deal with and his growing despair was easy to see. Steve nodded reassuringly with a soft smile. Mike’s face softened slightly and he returned the nod, hoping that the plan his young partner had put into action would yield the results they both wanted. If it didn’t, he was worried that the sparkle in her eyes would never return and he would lose his vivacious daughter forever.


	41. Chapter 41

“Thank you again for inviting us, you really didn’t need to,” Dan Healey said with a grin as he received the bowl of roast potatoes from his partner and spooned a couple onto his plate. “My wife is glad to have the night off; she’s going out with the girls.” He chuckled wickedly.

Jeannie looked at him with a warm smile. “It’s our pleasure, believe me. Mike and I owe you and Norm a lot for what you did for us.”

Her father, cutting off a piece of the roast on his plate, nodded in agreement. Beside him, Steve sat back with an affected frown and a sigh. “So, ah, so what about me? I got down there before they did, and I did a lot more, you know…” he whined dramatically, pointing at Healey and Haseejian with his fork.

Mike, without missing a beat, glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You’re family, it doesn’t count.” He put the piece of roast in his mouth.

The other three trying not to laugh, Steve glared at his partner for a long second then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said matter-of-factly and sat forward, spearing a carrot on his plate.

Everyone laughed genially; the overall atmosphere in the cramped kitchen was warm and relaxed. Jeannie had called the office when she and Steve had returned from their shopping expedition and invited the two sergeants to dinner then set about preparing said meal, with Steve’s help. Mike, true to his word, had spent the day in bed, mostly sleeping, only getting dressed and coming downstairs when Healey and Haseejian had arrived. Now, around the kitchen table that had been expanded with the leaf they seldom had to use, the small group that had survived the drama that had been Eldred were enjoying each others’ company in a much more peaceful setting.

“So what’s happening… in the office…?” Mike asked slowly, trying to sound conversational. 

The words were barely out of his mouth when his daughter turned on him sharply. “What did I say? No shop talk, remember? You’re not going back to work for at least a week and I don’t want you obsessing over things that you can’t control.” As Mike looked down at his plate like a scolded puppy, she shifted her attention to the other side of the table, pinning both sergeants with a ferocious glare. 

Healey swallowed heavily and nodded; Haseejian studied his plate, tossing quick glances in her direction from under his lowered brow. Steve was watching it all with barely contained amusement, relieved, for once, that he was not the recipient of Jeannie’s motherly ire. 

Clearing his throat, Steve forked another another slice of roast onto his plate and broke the silence. “So, ah, I picked up copies of the Examiner and Chronicle so Mike and I can go through the want ads for a car. If, ah, if you guys hear of a good car available -“

Mike had looked up, grateful that his partner had managed to change the subject so deftly, and interrupted, “Yes, please. If you guys know of someone who has a good late-model sedan for sale, preferably with low mileage, I’d be very interested.”

Both Healey and Haseejian looked at their boss and his partner thankfully for getting them off the hook. Nodding quickly, Healey blurted out, “Yeah, of course. Um, are you loyal to Ford or do you care -?“

“No, not at all,” Mike said quickly. “I don’t really care what make it is as long as it’s around the same size as the Falcon - the trunk space, you know. And I’d prefer a four-door.”

“I hear the Monte Carlo is a great car,” Haseejian offered and all the men nodded.

“Yeah, I heard that too,” Mike concurred. 

And they were off, spending at least the next ten minutes talking about cars and the pros and cons of various makes and models. Smiling softly to herself, Jeannie quietly went about finishing her meal, starting to quietly clear the table when the others were done, pouring their coffees. She was relieved not to be the centre of attention and not feeling the pressure of having to contribute to the conversation. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she had a feeling that Steve and her father were being deliberate in their attempts to steer the discussion away from her, and she was immensely grateful.

She opened the oven, put on the mitts and took out a beautifully browned apple pie. They were still talking cars when she set the plates of steaming pie slices with small dollops of vanilla ice cream on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Healey exclaimed in surprise and delight as he leaned back when the plate appeared in front of him. “That smells amazing.” He looked up at Jeannie with a huge grin and inquiring eyes. 

She smiled back and shook her head. “Nope, I was too busy with the roast.” She nodded across the table at a smugly smiling Steve. Healey looked at his colleague with a confused frown. “You made this?” He pointed at the dessert plate with his fork.

“Umh-humh.” The younger man nodded once. Beside him, Mike glanced up with a very amused grin then, chuckling quietly, looked down at the plate that had just been placed in front of him.

“You baked this apple pie?” Healey was obviously having a hard time with the concept.

“Well, I didn’t bake it - the oven did that - but I did make it.” Steve’s tone was pedantic without being condescending; Mike was impressed, and he nodded in admiration at the plate as he forked off the tip of his slice.

“You did not,” Haseejian rebutted from the other side of the table, his own face contorted with doubt.

“He did so,” Jeannie said pointedly as she sat, glancing at Steve with a smile and a quick, confirming nod which he returned. “He’s very good at following directions and I think he did a wonderful job.” He looked at the sergeants with raised eyebrows. “Don’t you?”

They looked at her blankly for a moment, then nodded. “Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Healey nodded, cutting off a slice with his fork. Haseejian just nodded quickly and looked down. Both Mike and Steve were chuckling silently as a grinning Jeannie turned her attention back to her plate. 

The rest of the meal passed in genial camaraderie, and it turned out to be a wonderful night for them all, a much needed respite from the drama and its continuing repercussions. Healey’s concern for Jeannie’s emotional welfare had not been lost on either her father or Steve, who had both clocked the Irish sergeant’s occasional solicitous and avuncular glances in the young woman’s direction throughout the evening. And they were heartened by his obvious concern, though they knew there was nothing Healey could do either.

# # # # #

Mike sat slowly and gingerly, holding his breath. Steve had closed the bedroom door and was standing over him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the older man said quickly, exhaling loudly. “Just tired, and sore.”

“I’ll get some fresh water.” Steve picked up the almost empty glass from the bed table and disappeared down the hall to the bathroom. 

Mike had his shirt off when he got back. “Thanks. Ah, listen, I’m all right, I can do this.” He waved the younger man away. “Why don’t you go help Jeannie with the dishes.”

Steve put the glass down and moved the bottle of Tylenol next to it. ‘Yeah, I will. Listen, ah, I just wanted you to know she’s going to come by around 11 tomorrow, take Jeannie out to lunch. You okay with that?”

Mike’s eyebrows snapped up. “Oh yeah, you bet. That’ll be perfect.”

“Good. So look, ah, I’m going to go into work for the day, like I said, and if you stay in bed all day, then Jeannie won’t feel guilty about leaving you to go out to lunch.”

“Yeah, sure, of course. Good idea.” 

Steve had taken the pajamas out of the top bureau drawer and tossed them on the bed beside the older man. “Okay, well, I’ll go down and do my husbandly chores,” he chuckled dryly. “Try to get a good night’s sleep.”

Mike laughed softly. “I will. Hey, thanks.”

Standing at the door, Steve winked. “You’re welcome.” He closed the door after him.

# # # # #

“Your pie was a big hit,” Jeannie said with a chuckle as he stepped into the kitchen. She was filling the sink.

“Thanks,” he crowed comically. “I had a great teacher. I gotta remember how to do that so I can impress my dates.”

“You cook for your dates?” She started to put the dirty glasses and cups in the sink.

“Well, no… I haven’t yet but… well, you never know…”

They both laughed. He took a fresh dish towel out of a lower drawer, studying her from behind. He could see the thin, almost fibrous hold she was maintaining on her frayed emotions, trying to appear normal. He knew it was an act but one he would let her maintain. His only hope was that the course of action he had set in motion would unfold in the way he had planned. If it didn’t, then he wasn’t sure what to do next, and that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

# # # # #

There was a light knock on the door and Mike raised his head from the newspaper. “Come in,” he called. Jeannie pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He smiled at her from overtop his reading glasses. 

“Find anything yet?” she asked as she crossed to the bed. He had gotten dressed and was lying on top of the bedspread, the folded newspaper against an upraised knee and a pen in his right hand. He had been circling possible used car want ads. 

“A couple,” he said with a shrug, “but nothing that screams ‘buy me’ yet.”

She chuckled and sat on the side of the bed. “I know it’s early but I was wondering what you might want for dinner.”

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet,” he laughed.

She smiled. “I know.”

He put the paper down and frowned at her. “Are you that bored? Sweetheart, I’m okay, you know that. Why don’t you think about going back to school? Haven’t you missed enough already?”

She bit her lip, frowning, and stared at him. “Not yet, Daddy. I’m not ready yet… okay?”

He looked at her for along beat, then nodded, swallowing heavily. “Okay,” he said softly and the smile she rewarded him with was brief and sad. And his heart broke a little more. He smiled. “Listen, ah, I don’t want anything for lunch, I had a big breakfast. If I want something, I’ll just wander down and help myself.”

“You sure.”

“Sure I’m sure. I don’t want you waiting on me. Besides, I have a car to find,” he chuckled as he picked up the newspaper again. “It’s not an easy task, you know.”

Smiling, she leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” she said softly.

“And I love you too,” he grinned.

# # # # #

She was curled up in the recliner, reading “The Osterman Weekend”, the only contemporary novel she could find on her father’s shelves that didn’t have something to do with sports, when the doorbell rang. With a frown, she put the hardback book facedown on the coffee table and got to her feet, looking at her watch. It was 11 a.m.

She turned the lock and opened the door. A cute young woman about her height, with medium length dark brunette hair was standing on the stoop. Her face exploded into a wide and appealing grin and her dark eyes lit up.

“You must be Jeannie,” she said enthusiastically in a low and husky voice, thrusting out her right hand. “Hi. I’m Sherry Reese. I worked with your father and Steve. And I’m here to take you out to lunch.”


	42. Chapter 42

Frowning slightly above a confused smile, Jeannie shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry, what?”

Sherry Reese’s grin got impossibly bigger. “I’m here to take you out to lunch,” she repeated with a throaty chuckle, “or a least a coffee.” Her purse over her shoulder, she raised both hands in mock surrender. “I’m harmless, believe me. Like I said, I worked with your dad and his partner on a case a couple a years ago.” She chuckled disarmingly again.

“You’re a police officer?”

“Uhm-humh,” Sherry nodded, reaching for her purse and pulling her badge out. “I work Vice. Today’s my day off.”

Still confused, Jeannie looked at the badge and I.D. then took a step back into the house, holding the door open a little wider as an invitation for Sherry to enter. “Um, okay…” she began quietly, “but why are you taking me to lunch?”

The broad smile on the cop’s warm features wobbled and dissolved and she put a gentle hand on Jeannie’s forearm as she stepped past her. “Because I hear you had a rough time last week… and you’ve been keeping everything to yourself…. And you need someone to talk to who knows what you’ve been through.”

Jeannie’s haunted eyes slid from Sherry’s penetrating stare to the floor, continuing to hold the door open as if she’d forgotten about it.

Sherry squeezed the arm under her hand. “And some people who care about you a great deal think that… well, that I might be able to help you… because I’ve been there too…”

Jeannie’s head snapped up and she froze, swallowing heavily. “You were almost… raped too?” she asked softly, realizing it was the first time she’d used that word out loud.

Sherry nodded. “Umh-humh… and it was Steve that saved me.”

Jeannie’s eyes widened. “Steve…?”

“Umh-humh,” the cop nodded. “Listen, uh, why don’t we go out to lunch and I’ll tell you all about it… and then you can decide how much you want to tell me. And if you don’t, then that’ll be cool too.” She grinned. “So how does that sound?”

Hesitating for a long beat, biting her bottom lip, Mike’s daughter eventually nodded. “I’d, ah… I’d like that…” she said softly.

“Great.”

“Uh, could you just wait here while I just go get changed and tell my Dad I’m going out?”

“Sure, go right ahead. I’m in no rush.”

Her smile tentative and still slightly shell-chocked, Jeannie finally closed the front door, gestured towards the couch then started up the stairs to the second floor. Sherry, taking in every inch of the Stone living room, moved slowly to the couch and sat, smiling to herself.

Reaching the second floor, Jeannie went straight for her father’s room. She hesitated for a split second before turning the knob, not sure if she was angry with him or not, and not even sure if Sherry was his idea or Steve’s. Regardless, she wasn’t going to give him the chance to bluff his way through this; she opened the door without knocking and charged into the room.

Mike was still sitting up in the bed but his legs were straight out in front of him, the newspaper was in his lap and his hands were at sides. His head was back, his eyes were closed and his mouth was open, and she could hear his gentle snoring. 

She stopped abruptly and stared at him, frowning. She growled quietly to herself, debating whether to wake him or not. After a long second she exhaled loudly, backed up and shut the door.

When she had changed into black slacks, a maroon turtleneck and beige jacket, and grabbed her purse, she returned to the first floor, shooting another angry glance at her father’s door as she passed it. At the bottom of the stairs she collected Sherry with a smile and they left the house.

The second he heard the front door close, Mike opened his eyes and smiled. Pushing himself up gingerly, he turned, reached for the phone on the table beside him and dialled.

“Homicide, Keller.”

“They just left,” he said.

# # # # #

They were sitting in a small pastry shop in North Beach that Jeannie had never visited before. Sherry had driven, and they had spent the twenty minutes in the car getting there just making small talk, mostly about what Jeannie was studying at university, a subject that the young cop found fascinating.

“So what do you think of the Pyramid?” Sherry had asked when they got out of the car, nodding over her shoulder in the general direction of downtown, the building in question no longer visible. 

Jeannie chuckled, amazed at how relaxed she felt in Officer Reese’s company already. The cop had a easy, breezy personality that she found instantly charming and appealing. “I know a lot of people don’t like it but I think it’s magical. It really adds a lot to the skyline. I wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes the Empire State Building of San Francisco… you know, iconic.”

Sherry laughed. “I like that! The Empire State Building of San Francisco. Well done.”

They had ordered their coffees and pastries at the counter, with Sherry paying over Jeannie’s objections, and found a small round table tucked into a back corner. It was just before the lunch hour rush, and the place was relatively empty.

Sherry stirred her coffee in silence then deliberately put the spoon on the table, avoiding Jeannie’s somewhat furtive glances. Then she looked up and smiled warmly.

After a couple of silent seconds, Jeannie frowned slightly, realizing the young cop was waiting for her to start. She cleared her throat softly. “Was it Steve who called you?”

Still smiling, Sherry nodded. “Umh-humh. He’s worried about you… and so’s your father.”

“Did you talk to Mike?” Jeannie sounded almost horrified.

Sherry shook her head quickly. “No, of course not,” she chuckled. “To be perfectly honest, your father still scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

Jeannie snorted softly. “He does?”

“Umh-humh.”

“But he’s a teddy bear…”

“To you, maybe. To us young cops, he’s a… well, like you just said, an icon. There’s nobody on the force who’s more respected than your dad, not by a long shot.”

“And that makes you scared of him?”

“Well, not really… I mean, I had the… opportunity to work with Steve and him a couple of years ago, like I said, and I got to see the other side of him… the teddy bear side.” She looked at Jeannie with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “It really comes out when he’s with Steve, doesn’t it?”

Jeannie’s face lit up. “You’ve notice that too?”

Sherry snorted a laugh. “I would have to be blind and deaf not to notice.” Her face and her voice softened. “I think it’s kinda sweet…”

“So do I…”

They both focused on their coffees for a short spell, taking their first sips. Sherry put her cup down silently, then looked up at the young woman across the table. “So, Steve told me a bit about what happened last week but he was very vague. And I wasn’t sure if he was doing that deliberately or if he really didn’t know… but, Jeannie, why don’t you tell me - as much as you want, you don’t have to tell me everything - about what happened. How does that sound?” She smiled encouragingly but not demandingly.

Jeannie looked up from under a lowered brow and bit her upper lip. Then she exhaled loudly through her nose and nodded once. “All right…” she said quietly. In a soft but determined voice, she told Sherry about the vacation she and Mike had taken, how wonderful it had been, and her father’s desire to leave early on the Sunday morning for home, with three big fish for her to dangle in Steve’s face in retribution for his insinuation that they would be coming home empty-handed.

“Serves him right,” Sherry laughed. “Boy, I would’ve loved to have seen that.”

Jeannie’s grin wavered then disappeared. “Yeah, me too,” she sighed, and Sherry realized this was when things had gone very dark for the small Stone family. When the younger woman looked down, both hands around her coffee cup, she reached across the table and wrapped a comforting hand around the thin wrist. Jeannie looked up and smiled sadly.

The small shop started to fill up with office workers coming in for lunch, and the decibel level in the pace increased exponentially. Jeannie seemed to be annoyed at first as she struggled to tell the attentive brunette cop of the events that had unfolded on that horrific Saturday afternoon. But as they leaned closer to each other so she could be heard, she realized that the forced intimacy was making it actually easier to open up than harder.

And, surprisingly, it also meant that she had to keep her emotions in check, that she couldn’t allow the anger and despair that she had let fester so close to the surface since she had been forced to lie on that filthy bathroom floor and succumb to the demands of Johnny Seddon to bubble to the surface in front of so many strangers.

By the time she had told Sherry of the assault, of Mike coming to her rescue, of the pursuit on the highway and subsequent accident, and of waking to the realization that her father was being charged with murder and she with accessory to murder, the overflowing lunchtime crowd had started to disperse and the small shop was growing quieter.

Finished, she sat back, her eyes surreptitiously scanning the nearby tables, alert for anyone who had seemed to be listening. But, much to her relief, no one seemed to be paying any attention to the two attractive brunettes so deep in conversation.

Sherry, who had been staring at her throughout, slumped back in the chair and exhaled loudly. “Wow,” she said softly, “you had one hell of a vacation, didn’t you?”

Jeannie frowned then, almost despite herself, laughed suddenly and loudly. Sherry’s eyebrows shot up; she obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction. Jeannie shook her head, trying to lose the smile. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I don’t mean to sound flippant but… oh god, I’ve been keeping all this inside for so long, it seems, and it feels so good to just get it out…” she smiled, “and you’re right… it was one hell of a vacation.”

Sherry’s smile was grateful as she reached across the table again and patted the younger woman’s arm. She glanced down at the cups. “Honey, I don’t know about you, but I could use another latte. What do you say?”

Jeannie smiled warmly and nodded. 

“Okay then.” Sherry started to get to her feet and Jeannie followed. “No no no, you stay here. I’ll get this.” She picked up both cups and saucers then looked pointedly at the chocolate croissant still sitting untouched on the small plate near Jeannie’s elbow. “And I think we should probably eat our pastries before they go stale, do you?” With the signature throaty chuckle that Jeannie was quickly becoming familiar with, she headed to the counter, balancing the two large empty cups on the saucers.

Jeannie looked down at the table, absent-mindedly tearing a corner off of the croissant as she thought about what she had just done. She wasn’t sure how much more she was willing to open up about. What she had told Sherry had been, to quote her father quoting an old TV cop show, just the facts; now she knew she would have to get into specifics, mostly about how she was coping with what had happened. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

As she put the piece of croissant into her mouth, she looked up at Sherry at the counter. It had felt almost good, she admitted to herself, to actually tell someone what had happened, someone that was not male and not in a formal investigative setting, though it was ironic that Sherry was also a cop.

But she wasn’t sure how far she should go allow herself to go.


	43. Chapter 43

Sherry returned to the table with the two lattes and put them down with a warm smile. 

“Thanks,” Jeannie looked up, nodding softly. She was having a hard time finding her own smile and Sherry frowned as she sat. She knew what the younger woman was going through, that there was going to be a reluctance to open up about what she was feeling, what she was holding onto inside with almost a death grip. She sat back and watched as Jeannie stirred a couple of sugar cubes into her latte, the movement slow and deliberate. Reaching for a couple of cubes in the large white bowl herself, she dropped them into the cup and picked up her spoon.

“Well, you’ve been the one doing all the talking so far,” she said lightly, “so I guess it’s my turn.” Jeannie’s head came up, her brow furrowing. “I told you earlier that a couple of years ago Steve saved me from being… sexually assaulted…. Well, that isn’t the complete truth. I was almost raped, yes… but I was also almost murdered. If Steve hadn’t shot the man who went after me, I wouldn’t be here today, I’m sure of that.”

Jeannie, who had been staring at her without moving, swallowed heavily. “What happened?” she asked quietly. 

Sherry smiled softly; this was playing out exactly as she had hoped. She finished stirring her latte and put the spoon down deliberately before she answered. “Well, someone had been raping women and my best friend, who also happened to be a cop, was posing as… well, bait, I guess you could say.” Her gaze was suddenly far away.

“And she was killed?”

Sherry nodded. “Not on duty. Unfortunately, her killer followed her home from the grocery store they were staking out and, well, it seems he helped her in with her groceries and… and he attacked her.” She paused and looked away briefly. “Anyway, um, long story short, I wormed my way into the investigation - which Steve and your dad were heading up - and, together, we figured out who the guy was. But, unknown to all of us, he had broken into my new apartment and, after Steve dropped me off one night, he attacked me. He’d, ah, he’d been hiding, believe it or not, in my bathtub, which was half-filled with water because I was soaking some sweaters.” She shook her head with a low, mirthless laugh.

“I fought him off as best I could, with my training, but he was young and stronger than me, and he got my gun away from me… but he didn’t use it. He threw me on the bed and pocketed my gun… and that’s when Steve came to my rescue…” Her eyes were unfocused and a soft smile spread over her features. “He’d seen the car in the parking lot.” Her awe was still evident in the simple statement, even after so much time. Shaking her head in wonder, she met Jeannie’s eyes. “Steve had to shoot him when he went for the gun in his pocket, but he didn’t kill him. He’ll be locked up for a very long time, thank god.”

She picked up her cup of coffee, took a large sip, returned it to the saucer then reached across the table and laid her right hand on Jeannie’s forearm. 

“He didn’t do to me what that bastard did to you because Steve stopped him, but I have no doubt in my mind that not only would he have raped me, he would have killed me. He targeted me, because he had gone to my friend’s funeral and he had seen me there. He even knew I was a cop but that didn’t stop him. But I knew that he went after me not because he was infatuated with me, Sherry Reese or because he knew who I was as a person and he liked me. He went after me because I was a female, I was a warm body with a vagina.”

Jeannie’s head went back slightly as she flinched. She had never heard another woman use the word like that before.

Sherry smiled with a head shake. “That’s all I was to him, really. I mean he knew my name and he knew where I lived and things like that, but I was just a body to him, another notch on his belt. And I wasn’t going to let him do that, no matter what I had to do, even if I had to die trying. Luckily, it didn’t come to that - thanks to Steve.”

She squeezed Jeannie’s arm again. “I was spared what he did to you, sweetie, and I don’t know what it felt like, not really… but I know how it feels to be just a body and not a person. Now I’m not a saint; I had a rough… youth, you could say. I didn’t get along with my parents and lived on the streets for awhile… and I was into drugs… but I never sold my body, I never compromised who I was, not even when things got really rough… before a, a ‘good samaritan’ took me under her wing and turned my life around.”

“But until that… that rapist attacked me in my own home, I had never been afraid just to be a woman. And that’s what he did to me that night. He hadn’t really attacked me, Sherry Reese. He attacked what I represented, he attacked me because I was a woman. He hated me just because I was a woman. And that scared me.” She smiled sadly. “Is that how he made you feel?”

Jeannie had lowered her head slightly, and now she looked at the young cop from under her lowered brow. After a long, unmoving best, she nodded softly.

Sherry nodded back with a knowing smile. “You said he didn’t get to… finish, because your dad kicked the door in… is that right?”

Jeannie nodded again.

“Your knight in shining armour… just like Steve had been for me.”

Jeannie’s bottom lip began to twitch and tears sprang to her eyes. Biting both lips to stop the trembling, her nodding increased and she inhaled sharply through her nose. Sherry’s smile got wider.

“That’s what you have to hang on to, honey,” she said softly, increasing the pressure on the young woman’s arm. “What you’ve gone through could have been so much worse if your dad had been even a minute later… but he wasn’t. And yes, you’ve been assaulted… but you haven’t been raped. And that’s a good thing, even though it doesn’t seem like it to you right now.”

Sherry stared into Jeannie’s tear-filled eyes and nodded. Then she released Jeannie’s arm and sat back. “I want you to do me a favor. And I want you to think about this before you respond.” She took a deep breath. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’ll get over this eventually. It will just become a memory… but whether it becomes a bad memory, that colors the rest of your life and makes you miserable and angry and afraid… or it becomes something that you rise above… is all up to you. Nobody can make that decision for you - not me, not your dad, not Steve, or your girlfriends - only you.

“So you have to decide: am I going to let this change who I am, turn me into a person that’s frightened and bitter and maybe even withdrawn… or am I going to put this behind me, realize how lucky I was to have escaped, and live my life the way I want to, the way I was always meant to live it, as a strong and confident woman?”

Sherry leaned even closer and though her voice became softer, the intensity of her stare and her words somehow increased.

“You can’t let the sick little bastard define who you are right now and who you will become. You’re bigger and stronger than that, just like I was with that little creep that tried to rape me. You survived him… so you can’t let him win now, after the fact. Because if you give in to the fear and the anger that I know you’re feeling right now, then he wins, even if he really didn’t.”

She sat back slightly and took a beat. “You know, I have a feeling your father is suffering about what happened to you just as much as you are.”

Jeannie frowned and her eyes widened slightly but she didn’t say anything.

Sherry nodded slightly and briefly closed her eyes. “I know the kind of man your father is… how much he loves you and how much he feels responsible for everything that happens to you or about you. The good fathers are like that. You’re lucky…mine wasn’t.” She smiled wistfully and looked away then she chuckled mirthlessly. “I bet you deep inside, where he hides it so you can’t see it, he’s angry and disappointed with himself for allowing you to be brutalized like that.” Jeannie’s face began to crumble slightly and Sherry took her hands again. “I’m sure he feels guilty… and he doesn’t want you to see that. He doesn’t want you to feel guilty about what he’s going through so he’s hiding it… but I bet he’s hurting… just as much as you are…”

Jeannie’s lips began to tremble again and this time the tears, which had been brimming on her lids, began to slowly trickle down her cheeks. Sherry squeezed her hands and smiled understandingly.

“Jeannie, it is so important to so many people that you fight your way through this… horrible chapter in your life, that you deal with in a way that makes you stronger, and that you don’t let it change you or shape the life you have yet to live. You can’t let that happen… because it’s not only you that will suffer, so will all the people who love you… and especially your father. You can’t let that happen to you and you can’t let that happen to him. You’re so much stronger than that.”

Sherry’s smile widened and she shook Jeannie’s hands. “Now I’m not going to tell you that you got off lucky because he didn’t get to finish what he started. What he did to you was horrific and it should never have happened, and it’s just as disgusting and devastating as if he had… but he’s gone, for good, and you’re still here and you have your whole life ahead of you, you really do. Don’t let him win.”

Jeannie was staring at her without expression, the tears continuing to slowly trickle down her already wet cheeks.

Sherry leaned forward till they were almost forehead to forehead. “If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for your dad.” She stared at the younger woman for several long beats, a slight smile touching her lips, staring into the red-rimmed blue eyes. “What’d’ya say?” she asked with a soft and gentle chuckle. “Will you think about it?”

Jeannie continued to stare at her for a long beat then very slowly she began to nod. She still wasn’t able to smile, but the tentative confirmation was enough, for now, for the young Vice cop. 

“That’s my girl,” Sherry said happily, her smile getting bigger. She squeezed Jeannie’s hands then let them go and sat back. After a beat, her eyes drifted to the two large white cups of coffee. “Well,” she said with a self-deprecating chuckle, “I talked so long our lattes got cold.” She met Jeannie’s still teary eyes. “I’m just going to have to do something about that.” She got up quickly, reaching for the two saucers.

Jeannie seemed to come to life. She reached out and put a hand on Sherry’s wrist as the older woman took her cup. “No… no, it’s okay, really…”

Sherry stopped mid-move and stared at her with a cocky smile. “Oh, honey, we’re not done yet. I mean, I think we’re done talking about… what we talked about. Now I want to talk gossip, girl!” She chuckled wickedly as she pulled her hand out from under Jeannie’s grip and picked up the cold latte. “When I get back, I want you to tell me all you know about who a certain Homicide inspector is seeing right now… you get my drift…?” With a lascivious wink, she turned away from the table and strutted self-confidently to the counter.

With a mixture of awe and gratitude, Jeannie watched her go.


	44. Chapter 44

The red Ford Pinto pulled to the curb directly in front of the De Haro house and the passenger side front door opened. Jeannie turned in the seat, a warm smile lighting her face once again. She sighed loudly. “Sherry, like I said before, I don’t know how to thank you, I really don’t.”

Laughing, Sherry grinned. “And like I said before, you’re very welcome. I just want you to promise me you’ll think about what I said. You’re too young and pretty and smart to let what happened change you… and I think deep down inside, you know that too.”

Jeannie pursed her lips and nodded. “Well, you’ve definitely given me a lot to think about, that’s for sure.” She smiled again and put her hand on the cop’s forearm. “Thank you.” She started to get out then stopped and looked back. “And thank you for lunch - and all those lattes,” she chuckled, “and thanks for stopping by the Wharf.” She nodded towards the back of the small car.

Chuckling gleefully, Sherry reached for the handle and opened the door. “Well, after you told me what happened to those big fish you and Mike caught… and Steve’s insinuation that you wouldn’t catch anything… how could I refuse?” She got out and circled to the back of the car, unlocking the trunk.

Jeannie, who had joined her, reached into the trunk and picked up the large paper bag by the handle, grunting softly as she pulled it out of the deep trunk. Sherry slammed the lid then looked at the young woman with a soft smile. “I really hope our little talk helped put everything into some kind of perspective. I know after what happened to me, it was nice to talk to a friend who had been through a similar experience; she knew what I was going through.”

“It did,” Jeannie said with nod and a smile of her own. “It really did.” She paused for a moment. “Um, would I be able to… to call you again if I needed someone to talk to?”

“Of course,” Sherry almost blurted out, reaching out to briefly grip the younger woman’s upper arm. “That’s why I gave you my number. Call me anytime. I’d like that, I really would.”

Nodding, Jeannie pursed her lips and smiled. “Well, ah, if I’m gonna cook these for dinner, I better get in there.” She nodded up at the house.

Sherry glanced up as well. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Is Steve stopping by for dinner?”

Jeannie chuckled and nodded over her shoulder. “He’s already here.”

Sherry followed the direction of the nod; the familiar tan LTD was parked across the street between two of the neighbours cars. She chuckled softly.

Jeannie, who had watched the young cop’s reaction to the unmarked sedan, swallowed a grin as Sherry focused on her again. “Listen, ah, you take care of yourself and that dad of yours. Tell him I wish him a speedy recovery.”

“I will, thanks,” Jeannie said as she stepped up onto the sidewalk and Sherry circled back to the driver’s side door. “And thank you again.”

“You’re welcome.” Sherry opened the door then stopped halfway into the car. She glanced up at the house briefly and grinned. “Ah, will you do me a favor and tell Steve to expect a phone call?” She chuckled evilly as she disappeared into the little car and slammed the door.

Jeannie watched as the Pinto pulled away from the curb and disappeared up the street. She turned and looked up at the house, her smile disappearing as she started to climb the steps, the paper bag suddenly heavy in her hand.

# # # # #

The living room was empty and the house quiet, and she went straight to the kitchen to put the bag on the counter. She took a step towards the living room again then stopped, frowning. She was suddenly unsure if she wanted to confront her father and his partner about what had just taken place. Then, making up her mind, she strode out of the kitchen, across the living room and up the stairs. Without knocking, she opened the bedroom door.

Mike was still lying on the bed, leaning against the headboard, both knees up and his glasses on. He had a folded newspaper against his thigh and a pen in his hand, just like earlier. Steve was sitting in the chair beside the bed, reading his own paper, and there were sections scattered on the floor around them. Empty glasses and mugs were on the floor and the bed table, and what looked like an empty soup bowl and spoon.

Both men looked up quickly, alarmed. “Jeez, Jeannie, we didn’t hear you come in. When did you get home?” her father asked warily, staring at her from over the top of his glasses.

“Just now,” she smiled noncommittally, knowing they were both dying to ask her what had happened but also knowing they were both too well trained to tip their hand too soon. She let an uncomfortable silence stretch out as she smiled at them expectantly and they stared back. Eventually she nodded at the paper in her father’s hand. “Did you find a car?”

“What?” he asked dully, frowning in confusion.

She nodded at the paper again. “A car. Did you find a car?”

“Oh, ah, no… no, not yet.” He smiled perfunctorily as he nodded in his partner’s direction. “Ah, Steve’s been giving me a hand.”

The handsome young man, who was looked decidedly nervous, smiled automatically as well, nodding.

She pursed her lips, having a hard time containing her amusement; they looked like deer caught in headlights. She glanced at her wristwatch then looked at Steve. “I’m assuming you’re staying for dinner?”

“Ah, yeah,” he glanced from daughter to father and back again with a slight shrug, “if that’s okay?”

Mike was still looking at his daughter, trying to figure out if the lunch she had just attended had yielded the results he had hoped it would. He couldn’t tell.

“Of course it is,” Jeannie chuckled. “You guys stay here, and I’ll go get it started. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Okay,” Mike said quietly and hesitantly as his daughter turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. The men looked at each other blankly. Finally Mike shrugged slightly and they both went back to their respective newspapers.

# # # # #

Jeannie stood at the bottom of the stairs, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist. “Dinner’s ready!” she bellowed up the stairs, loud enough to wake the dead, then returned to the kitchen with a slightly smug smile, well aware of the power she wielded at the moment and vowing to take full advantage of it.

She heard the master bedroom door open; it was more than a minute later before she heard her father come slowly down the stairs. “Steve’s just washing his hands, he’ll be right down,” he informed her as he walked into the kitchen, sniffing the air. He frowned and cocked his head. “We’re not having pot roast leftovers?”

Jeannie was just pulling on the oven mitts. She smiled enigmatically as she opened the oven door. “I decided to give Steve the fish dish we promised him.” She reached into the oven and took out a large pyrex casserole dish, putting it on a cold burner on the stovetop.

“You got a salmon?” He sounded very surprised.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and made a face. “No, of course not. They don’t have fresh salmon on the Wharf this time of year, you know that.”Mike took a step closer to the stove, trying to get a good look at the three large fillets in the glass dish. “Then what is it?”

She looked at him cryptically as she pulled the stack of plates closer and picked up the turner. Behind him, Steve wandered into the kitchen.

“That doesn’t smell like pot roast,” the younger man said hesitantly, sniffing the air.

Jeannie chuckled. Mike turned towards his partner with raised eyebrows. “It’s not. It’s fish.”

“Fish?”

“Fish,” Jeannie confirmed as she placed the fillets on the three plates then began to spoon out the Brussel sprouts and pancetta from the skillet. “Just because Mike and I didn’t get to bring our catch back with us, doesn’t mean you don’t get to eat fish.”

“Great,” Steve said, looking at his partner with a pleased smile as he took his seat at the table, which was already set. 

Mike, standing in the middle of the kitchen, was frowning, still trying to figure out what kind of fish. “We, ah, we caught trout and salmon. This isn’t trout or salmon.”

Jeannie turned from the stove with two plates and crossed to the table. As she put them down, she looked at her father. “It’s black cod.”

Steve whistled as he looked down at his plate. “Black cod… that’s expensive…”

“Yeah, it is…” Mike said under his breath, his frown getting deeper. He sat as if in a trance, looking at his own plate.

Jeannie returned to the table with her plate, putting it down as she sat. There was already an open bottle of white wine on the table, wine glasses in front of Steve and herself. 

“Wow, this looks delicious, Jeannie, thank you,” Steve gushed as he picked up the wine bottle and poured some into her glass and then his own. 

Mike, still frowning, looked at his daughter then at the water glass in front of him.

“You’re on painkillers, you’re not supposed to have any alcohol,” she said succinctly with curt nod, then picked up her wine glass and looked at Steve. “I really haven’t said so yet… but I just want to thank you for what you did for us in Eldred. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I don’t know what would’ve happened.” She raised her glass, looking into his eyes.

“Ah, yeah, um, that’s for sure,” Mike stumbled, picking up his water glass and raising it as in a toast. “We owe you… a lot,” he said softly, his bottom lip quivering slightly as the emotion washed over him suddenly and unexpectedly.

Looking embarrassed, Steve picked up his glass and raised it quickly. “You’re welcome,” he said curtly then took a sip and put the glass down, obviously flustered. “Let’s, ah, let’s enjoy this amazing dinner. It smells fantastic.” He quickly picked up his fork, cut a piece of the perfectly baked cod and put it in his mouth. As Mike and Jeannie watched, he closed his eyes and his head wobbled. He swallowed then grinned. “That, Jeannie, is heaven.”

Chuckling warmly, she took a sip of her own wine then, glancing at her father with a loving smile, picked up her fork. “Okay, gentlemen, no talking about what happened in Eldred, and no shop talk. Not tonight.”

Pursing his lips, her father nodded. “I agree,” he chuckled as he took a sip of his water, winking at his daughter. As he picked up his fork, he asked tentatively, “So… what do we talk about?”

Jeannie looked at him with amused irritation. “Did you guys find a car?”

# # # # #

“Thank you again, Jeannie,” Steve said as he stepped out onto the stoop. Mike had already headed up to his bedroom, loosing his battle to stay awake; his injured ribs and the painkillers had done a number on his stamina. “That cod was amazing, it really was.”

“Thank you,” she chuckled as she held the front door open. “I’m glad it was a hit.” She paused suddenly, as if she wanted to say something else, and he waited. “Ah, listen,” she said eventually, “thank you for today…”

He froze. It was the first time she had mentioned anything. After a brief pause, he nodded slightly. “You’re welcome.” When she didn’t say anything else, he smiled at her warmly and turned to start slowly down the stairs. 

She watched him go. When he was halfway down, she called his name. He stopped and turned, looking up. She grinned. “Just so you know,” she said loud enough for him to hear, “I think you should expect a phone call.”

He frowned. “What?!”

Smiling wickedly, she closed the door, locking it and turning off the porch light. She crossed back into the kitchen and cleaned a few things up, deciding to leave the rest till morning. She turned off the kitchen overhead and started up the stairs.

She could see the light under the door of the master bedroom and paused then knocked lightly. “Come in,” she heard her father’s voice and she opened the door. He was lying in bed, in his pajamas, his reading glasses on, a section of the newspaper in his right hand.

He smiled lovingly at her as she slowly crossed towards the bed, putting the paper down and taking off his glasses. She was staring at him with moist eyes, trying not to cry as she approached the bed. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Though her lips were trembling, she smiled as she shook her head. “Nothing…” she said softly as she slid onto the bed beside him. He raised his right arm and she snuggled into him, wrapping her arm around his chest and laying her head against his shoulder. He pulled her close and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

They sat that was for several long minutes then he felt her stir. She cleared her throat slightly and he knew she wanted to tell him something but wasn’t sure how to put it into words. He waited.

Eventually he heard her take a deep breath. “Daddy,” she began softly, “um, how are you feeling?”

Mike frowned to himself. “Um, I’m fine, really… why?”

“So you promise to do what the doctors said and stay home for at least a week and then take it easy when you go back to work?”

He pulled away from her slightly and looked down. She kept her own head down, not looking at him.

“Yeah… I told you I would. Why?”

He felt her take another deep breath. “Well, I just want to make sure I can leave you on your own… because I, ah… well, I’m going to go back to school on Monday… if that’s okay…?”

Mike froze, his throat constricting. He took a deep, steadying breath and smiled. He tightened his grip around his daughters shoulders and pulled her close again. When he finally found his voice, his whispered, “Sure it’s okay…”

He rested his cheek on top of her head again and closed his eyes, exhaling loudly and contentedly. Maybe his Jeannie wasn’t completely back yet but he knew she would be, and for that he was extremely grateful. 

They had suffered through a horrible ordeal but they had been through it together… and they had survived it… together. And though it had left scars, some visible, most not, they were closer for having endured it, and their bond, which would never break, had only grown stronger.


End file.
